Tatterdemalion
by Lily Thorne
Summary: Let's visit King Sesshoumaru's England, where the hanyou Inuyasha is pursued as a suspect in the death of the human, Izayoi. Where Miroku gives sanctuary to this suspect, and the huntswoman Sango finds an odd creature in her woods…the Tatterdemalion-MxS
1. The Bad Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood. I do not own Inuyasha. End of story. Or, actually, beginning...anyways, enjoy.

This story is not about Robin Hood. We all know who he is, what he did. No, this story is not so much about him as it is about his companions. Two, in particular – The Friar Tuck and Little John (or Jenn, as she was christened).

Now let us give our outlaws new birth. New names, new lives, in a new reality not so different from the one before…where the hanyou Inuyasha is being pursued as a suspect in the death of the human Izayoi. Where the monk Miroku gives sanctuary to this suspect, and the huntswoman Sango finds an odd creature in her forest…the Tatterdemalion.

---

Blood.

It was everywhere. Hers, mostly, but his was also present. The floor was slick with it, his hands were stained with it, and cuts bled it sluggishly down his arm. She lay on the floor, chest having ceased to rise long ago. The greatest contrast in the two – aside from the obvious – was the lack of injury on her body. A single cut marred her skin, though that one cut had been enough to drain her lifeblood. Her stomach was the source of the injury, a long cut, dragging from left to right and nearly slicing her in half.

He, however, was injured in a far more…erratic manner. The worst of the cuts had begun to heal, the wound on his arm already beginning to close. A fresh line of pink skin was visible across his own stomach, and a gash on his leg was clotting fast. A multitude of bruises flickered over his skin in various stages of healing, and he winced as he felt a broken nose shift itself into place.

What had happened? He couldn't remember. A face…black in shadow. Breath smelling of ale and moldy bread. Long hair, dark as well, greasy, stringy, falling all around his face. It choked him. Metal glimmering, a sword, a knife in the cloud of his mind.

Haze permeated most of his memory. Where was his mother? His mind flickered to this, a more important question. He didn't care for faces he didn't remember and couldn't see. Sharp gold eyes surveyed the room, and for the first time, he became aware of his surroundings.

"_Mother_."

Her face was pale, tending toward a bluish hue. Her spark was gone and a bruise darkened her left eye, but her beauty was palpable despite her death. The darkened blood around her served only to magnify the paleness of her face, of the bathing robe she had worn when she stepped into her home not long before her death. Looking longer than a moment, one could see dark strands tangled into the blood. Black tresses, stained dull with blood, had been cropped harshly and close to her head. The rest was everywhere. Tangled on the ground, twisted underneath her where it had been caught when she struggled, in his hands as he fell to his knees and balled those hands into fists.

Tears he could not shed, and would have been hidden by long hair. Silver was not the dominant color now, the mass being darkened by blood, dirt, and oil. Tears were weakness. His father had been strong. His mother had said he was like his father. He had to be strong. His mother wanted him to be strong. She wouldn't want him to cry. He wanted to, though, so badly. Something was terribly wrong here, that his mother should be so…

"Miss Izayoi!" a cheerful voice interrupted his reverie. "Miss Izayoi!"

A new scent curled under his nose, cutting through blood, salt water, and a male scent he didn't recognize. The scent of a young woman. Hana. Pale haired, blue eyed, cheerful and youthful Hana, the young woman two huts from theirs. The scent brought to mind fresh water, a calm day, but the feeling the scent created were anything but peaceful. His mother was dead, and he didn't know why, or how, or who. And this woman was so alive, so cheerful…she expected his mother to be alive and happy. Well, she was in for a shock.

"Miss Izayoi," Hana said cheerfully as she poked her head in the door, "The men are finished at the bath house now – did you want to…"

The reason for her sudden silence was obvious. As was the reason for the scream that rose from the home that Izayoi and her son Inuyasha had once shared.

---

"Be good now, son," he tells me. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Be a good boy for Father Mushin."

I don't remember what his face looks like.

I remember that he wore nice clothes. They smelt like the spicy things he sold. I remember he wouldn't wear shoes because they didn't feel as nice as dirt under his feet. I remember he had big hands. His hands like to carry me on his shoulders when I was tired, and they liked to ruffle my hair. They liked wrapping around Akane's waist, and Suzumi's, and Etsu's. I don't know the rest of their names. They liked dropping two farthings every fortnight into my hand so I could buy sweetmeats from the markets. There were lots of markets, and once I even saved twelve farthings – a whole shilling! – and got a little twirl-top. We lost it when we left again. I remember he never yelled, never got cross. I remember he smiled when he left.

"I'll be good," I promise seriously. He always said you could tell what sort of bloke someone was by whether or not they kept their promises. I used to be a good man. Father Mushin stands right behind me, watching us. He's fat 'round the middle, and likes his ale more than a priest probably should. I don't suppose I can say much about it no more.

I watch as my father turns around from the abbey, and goes off towards the road. I watch as something long sprouts out of his neck. I watch as he falls down but doesn't get back up. I'm trying to run now, trying to get to him before the bandit does. I don't, because Father Mushin grabs me and keeps ahold of me real good. He tells me we can't go, since the bandit would get us too.

I watch as the bandit grabs the bag of money where my two farthing every fortnight came from, and a couple of other things. I watch as he runs laughing away from us, until he's just a little speck in the distance. I can't squish him, he's not close enough – I wish he was that small and that close.

I watch as Father Mushin gets my father behind the abbey. I watch as he puts my father on a funeral pile. I don't understand, but I will soon. I remember when I understood.

I watch as the last traces of Miroku Takeshi, the son of the 'barefoot merchant', burn with my father on the pile.

Dark hair tumbled into his face as he sat up on his cot. A pair of gold rings in one of his ears clinked together at the sharp movement, the lone earring on the opposite ear swinging but silent. They weren't big earrings, only tiny hoops no more than the width of your tiniest finger.

He rubbed eyes so dark a blue as to be mistaken for violet. Dreams again. Dreaming as an adult in a child's body, with a child's mind and his memories. It was always confusing. Not only that, but the nightmare, the memory of his father's death, disconcerted him.

His hut was deep in the forest, far away from prying eyes and curious animals. A cliff with a rough, jutting shelf served as the plot of land for the hovel that Miroku lived in. He hadn't been there long, maybe a month or so. Long enough to know that while the odd beetle may crawl over his head in search of a burrow it misplaced, it was a place he liked. A lake not far from where he now lived served as his bath, keeping him free of bugs that would choose him as a burrow.

His cot was at the back of the modest home, pressed against the rock. A loose root lay in front of the 'door', and Miroku had tripped over it more than once. A rickety table and three chairs – the other two for no particular reason except the homey feeling – was set closer to the door. A dirt pit lay to the left of the table, currently used as a firepit. Set into the spare wood that formed his left wall was also a larder of sorts. Dried meats, what little bread kept well, and some cheese wrapped in leaves and cloth filled the space.

Now he got up, slipping on a pair of sandals a little worse for the wear and picking up his staff. He picked up the twine that lay on the table and tied his messy hair in a tiny ponytail at the base of his neck. An armful of fruit lay on the table – Father Mushin had been here while he slept. He picked up a piece, biting into it. A jug of ale also sat on the table – only three quarters full upon inspection, but a nice thought.

Aside from his awakening, Miroku had an average day. He begged the tiny garden in front of his home to grow, so that he might have fresh vegetables and herbs. He destroyed the scraggly weeds that tried to steal light and life from his own precious plants. He traveled into the village, visiting the market. Miroku had only a few precious pounds saved up, but he often made a few shillings on exorcisms (some of which were real). Today, he had two houses to visit, and made close to five shillings.

However, his day was not to keep to the tradition. For when the monk Miroku returned home, he was to discover that someone got there before him.

---

He wasn't stupid – just one of the arrows they were firing at him could kill him. His healing only did so much, and a shaft of wood through one's heart was a little hard to fix. They were far behind, being human and slow, but the longbows they used made up for it. If he could make it to the deeper woods…

It had happened fairly quickly once Hana found them. Several men, including the hunter's son Raidon, had been quick to follow her screams and the scene they found spoke volumes. A hanyou covered in blood, a woman lying dead on the floor.

The pandemonium started when Hana hit the floor in a dead faint. For once, it had not been his fault. Raidon had been the first to speak.

"Look at that…" he said, with a shake of his head. "Didn't I tell you? Blood means little to a hanyou if it's not spilled. Comes from the demon in him."

His words shook her badly, and she had fallen to the floor. The wooden basin she held made a clattering noise in the silence that held only a moment under the tension. Only a moment, and then it broke, letting the wild cries of the villagers begin.

There was a hole in the roof of the hut where he had jumped through, over the village. He knew what would come now. An unfair trial, a fast, dishonorable death. Neither of these things appealed to him. To the villagers, the fact that he ran only served to prove their point. Only the guilty ran. They had rushed to their homes, grabbed the longbows normally used for hunting, and given chase.

It wasn't much farther to the deepest part of the woods, where trees were hit more often than prey. When an arrow came too close to his head for comfort, he took to the branches, the fabric of his breeches snagging and tearing as he went. He hadn't noticed that his shirt was gone, but what was left of his breeches would serve well enough for the moment. After all, he couldn't hop down and say:

'I'm sorry, but I've just noticed that I've left my shirt at home. Can I have a moment to get it before you resume trying to kill me?'

Though maybe they'd be laughing so hard that they'd forget about killing him. If they didn't shoot him before he spoke, that was.

Not entirely certain why he was even considering this a choice, he pushed himself harder. Inuyasha's breath came heavily, and he felt his muscles scream for him to stop. Just a little farther…

He ran until the sun set, not noticing when the arrows ceased to fly. It was at sunset that he missed his jump and fell heavily. It was at sunset that he tripped over a loose root, hit a table, and fell asleep in the hovel he had stumbled into.

It was not long after sunset that Miroku returned home to find someone passed out on his table.

---

When Inuyasha came to, he was warm. Funny – he remembered falling asleep outside. Or was it inside? His memory was still fuzzy. That seemed to be happening a lot.

"Oh, good. You are alive. I wasn't so certain when I came home and found you on my table. You bruised the fruit, you know," a voice said dryly. Inuyasha opened his eyes.

He was lying on a cot of some sort, a large woolen blanket tossed over him. His wounds were healed – as was to be expected. And yet…he still hurt everywhere. Especially his chest. Apparently the man sitting on a chair beside the cot was the owner of this place. The hanyou sat up. The blanket fell from him, and he realized part of his problem. A large, linear bruise stretched over his chest, and apparently he had broken a few ribs. They hadn't yet begun to set, but he was dreading when they did.

"I'm not so certain I'm alive myself. Where the hell am I?" he asked. The man grinned, gesturing with a staff.

"In my home," he said cheerfully. "Now if you don't mind I'd like your name."

"Name?" he said, as if it was a foreign word. The man nodded, and Inuyasha gave his name blankly, taking in the appearance of his companion. Black hair was tied in a small ponytail at the back of his head, two earrings in one ear, and on in the other. Tattered robes that had once been a sort of maroon tending to purple (he supposed) fit loosely. The staff cinched the idea that he was a monk – something that hadn't occurred easily for some reason.

"My name is Miroku," the monk said, breaking into Inuyasha's thoughts. "You're welcome as long as you're not a nuisance – or a bigger one than you already are. Considering that you're probably in trouble, I'd like to know just what you did. After all, I can't house a murderer, can I?"

It had been meant as a joke, but the barb had Inuyasha up in a flash. His hand closed around the man's throat and he shoved him against the wall.

"I killed no one!" he growled, before releasing him. Miroku put a hand to his throat, breathing hard. He looked a little shaken, but after a moment, he stood. Inuyasha sat down on the cot, glaring up at the man for a moment before he spoke.

"I did nothing."

Miroku nodded slowly, before sitting where he had been before.

"So I gathered," he replied. After a careful moment of word choice, he asked:

"What are you accused of?"

Inuyasha also thought before he spoke. Deciding that he was already hellbound, and that sparing the monk's life if he spoke to anyone of this wasn't going to change that, he sighed. He told the man of his awakening, of finding his mother's body, of Hana finding them and the chase that followed. Through this, Miroku listened carefully, weighing what he heard.

"It would seem," he said after Inuyasha finished. "That you are in need of sanctuary."

"Seems so," the hanyou snapped. His companion held up a hand.

"I am a monk. This is my abbey, my monastery, and my church. As such, it can be offered as sanctuary from the pursuit of the law, and it is that sanctuary I offer."

It took Inuyasha less than a minute to agree. He had his pride, but he wasn't stupid. It would be difficult to find his mother's killer from jail, and even more difficult to plot revenge on the man. He had the scent, and that scent he would never forget. It was everywhere, in every breath he had taken in that home.

Miroku tapped him on the head with his staff. The other man looked at him crossly.

"What?" he snapped.

"As part of that agreement, you have to help me keep this place together. This is a small space, so it's not hard. However," he paused and wrinkled his nose, "sounds and smells travel easily. You stink. The first thing you can do to help is take a bath."

The sound of displaced water was followed by a string of curses that sent the birds from their trees.


	2. All Men Have Problems, Called Women

Disclaimer for This and All Chapters (Otherwise Known as the Blanket Disclaimer): I don't own Inuyasha. But I do borrow the characters to create works of insanity, like this.

Sango's shot was near perfect. Executed with precision, taking into account the vagrant breeze that crossed her way, and hitting the animal directly in the heart. The death was quick, and relatively painless. What more could a hunter want? Even the arrow was perfect – prime quality, and salvageable. Her hair was out of her face and her clothes clean and fresh - she hadn't dirtied herself in the slightest. She was too good a hunter to make a mess of herself in the forest. It was a beautiful shot from a beautiful bow, made by a beautiful young woman.

Yea, perhaps in her dreams.

It hadn't been a graceful shot in the least. The arrow hit the beast in the flank, causing it to cry out with pain. Maybe if the wind hadn't come just as she loosed the arrow, it would've hit the stomach, but that was asking for a miracle. She'd never been good at guessing winds. Her hair was on its third day of unwash, her left sleeve ripped from too many bowstrings flaying it. The leather of her short tunic was worn, the belt gone and replaced by a length of sturdier twine.

It took two more shots to kill the damnable thing, and she lost an arrow to it. The bow she used was old, worn, and rather too tall for her. But when you were the only woman in a job for men, in a forest that was over-hunted, with a bad leader and worse ruler, you took what you could get. And her father's old bow was what she got, though just barely. That bastard Hakudoshi had wanted it as well.

He had taken nearly everything after the fire. Whether it was a blessing or a curse that she was washing when it struck she had yet to decide. Her mother had been killed birthing her brother, who was four years her junior. Or had been, at least. Kohaku's was the first body they found. Closest to the door – as usual. She would've fancied he was reading – or watching the local girls. Her father had been in one of the back rooms – probably working on a new weapon. Why the bow wasn't destroyed, she'd never know. It should have been one of the first things to go. Neither did she know what had started the fire – no one would tell her.

Hakudoshi – the sheriff for their county – had been passing through at the time. When he came upon them, covered in soot and digging out the remains of her home, he had demanded to know what had happened. And then he had attempted to take anything of value that was left – claiming that it would help get her ahead of taxes, also claiming that they were on the rise. Female she was, but stupid she was not. Sango had very firmly taken hold of her father's bow, Kohaku's scythe (he was learning to be a yeoman), and the few coins they had and told Hakudoshi that taxes weren't due for another month, and she'd send them in with the rest of the villagers at that time.

He had persisted for awhile – insisting that she would not have to pay twice. Sango almost believed him – though a local man helped her with that misconception. No, she wouldn't pay the same tax twice. She's pay the fifteen pence now, and two whole shillings in a month when they got that high.

So she had refused, and Hakudoshi wandered off eventually – in search of new prey. Sango took up the bow, struggling to learn what she could from those who would teach her. She had learned only a few steps of self-defense, and the use of a dagger, before her Father died. Very few wanted to teach a girl – but she was her father's daughter, and he had been the best hunter in the village. Sango had learned much, especially when she took to the forests and taught herself firsthand. She wasn't the best, not by far. But she survived. She got permission to hunt the King's forests, and even when she wasn't after game, she ventured out into the lush green woods of Sherwood. Never mind the tales of hauntings that had persisted for about three years.

So it was that day that she found herself tying the legs of the deer, and starting the long drag back to the village. Upon her arrival, the animal was quickly sent off for hiding and butchering. The people of their village were nothing if not fair – all game was given to the best butcher in their village and his wife, who tanned the hides to make clothing. The meat would be divided up by number of mouths to feed. Kouga and Ayame ran the village fairly, and with the demon's nose, no meat was kept from them. Kouga had been the first to teach her how to hold a bow, in fact, and Ayame the first to bind her arms and wrists when she cut herself with backlash.

It was on that day that Sango found herself restless, and she returned to the forest to wander.

It was also that day that she began anew.

---

"Why the hell am I doing this?" Inuyasha snapped, tossing the parchment to the ground. "I don't understand it, it's of no use to me, and I don't care!"

Miroku calmly picked up the neglected paper and put it back on the table.

"If you pay attention you'll come to understand it, you'll need it when someone tries to cheat you out of a pound's worth of food, and I assure you you'll care then."

The hanyou growled, picking up the quill and trying again. He was no head for numbers, and why Miroku was trying to change that fact he didn't understand. Why didn't the monk just do it all himself! It wasn't as if he'd be able to show his face in the village again in this lifetime.

"So I give you three shillings for a 14 pence bundle of wood. How much do you give me?"

Inuyasha glowered.

"That's not your happy face."

"Really? I'm sorry," he replied, gritting his teeth into a false smile. "I was trying to figure out which would be the best way to kill you."

Miroku, feeling lucky, played along. Why not – he had known Inuyasha for three years now, he knew his limits. Right?

"Oh, really? What were the choices?"

"Dismemberment or Angry Father of Maid."

"Now that's a low blow!" the monk cried. "I wasn't aware that she was only fifteen – and that's marriageable age, anyway."

"Twenty-two pence, or one shilling and ten pence," Inuyasha grumbled, clearly not in the mood. The man started at him for a moment before he understood what his companion was talking about.

"Very good! Are you up to a challenge?"

"It's already challenge not to kick your arse from here to the Holy Lands, monk. Don't test my patience."

"I wasn't aware you had any."

It was an odd scene that Kikyou walked in on. Miroku was putting the cot between himself and Inuyasha, who was trying very hard to get at the monk's throat without upsetting his bed. The other cot was behind Miroku, stopping him from going any further.

'Kikyou never looked so good', Miroku thought to himself as she walked into the hovel. A young girl – no older than the maid that Inuyasha had alluded to earlier – stood behind her, eyes cast down. It was a brief moment before Miroku noticed how startlingly similar they looked.

Kikyou herself wore a plain, sensible dress of scarlet, her dark hair tied loosely behind her. Eyes the color of rich coffee (not something he himself had tried, but had heard much talk of. Many of the nobles adored the bitter, foreign drink, and had told him so often) stared out from under clean-cut bangs. The girl wore a fawn-colored shift, equally sensible but slightly more worn than Kikyou's clothing. Her eyes were a bluish-gray, almost like his own but darker. Her hair wasn't much shorter than Kikyou's and it was left falling free, the cut more ragged than her companion's was.

It was obvious that they were lady and servant. But why had Kikyou brought her here? This was the question at the tip of his tongue when Inuyasha turned to see what he was staring at.  
Instantly his shoulders relaxed, his face softened and his entire demeanor seemed calmer. Miroku hid a smile.

"Kikyou," he greeted. The noblewoman smiled gently, dipping a tiny curtsy.

"It's nice to see you, Inuyasha," she said quietly. Her voice tripped a little over his name, almost a gentle sigh. "You, too, Miroku."

Miroku bowed.

"Well met, my lady," he said as he rose. Kikyou came further into the hut to seat herself at the table. She gestured for her maid to sit as well, and the girl did so. She didn't meet his eyes, or Inuyasha's for that matter.

"What brings you here?" The monk asked. She drew out a piece of parchment from her robes, and lay it on the table.

"Your fame grows," she told them, mild amusement evident in her voice. There, also, was concern. A rough sketch of Inuyasha was on the parchment, his scowling face a near perfect replica of the expression he wore at the moment. While the drawn Inuyasha scowled at the rest of the world, theirs scowled at the parchment that declared him an outlaw, to be brought in for a reward of 15 pounds. A farmer would usually only make three or four pounds a year.

"Why am I not depicted?" Miroku asked in a hurt voice. "Inuyasha – a mere outlaw – has a whole bill to himself, and I have nothing!"

The girl beside Kikyou hid a giggle. He smiled at her.

"Your sense humor is as marvelous as your beauty," he told her solemnly. "I would love for my child to carry both."

Inuyasha smacked him upside the head. The girl blushed a color near to her mistress's dress and looked down.

"You don't even know her name yet, monk!"

He laughed nervously when Inuyasha turned to the girl.

"Ignore him – or slap him. Your choice."

The girl apparently chose the former, turning a brighter color and keeping her face turned down. Through it all, Kikyou said nothing. When the attention was back on the paper, she spoke.

"Hakudoshi is upset that he cannot find you – or Green Haven. Not even his best hunters can find you."

"That's the point," the hanyou growled. Kikyou held up a hand, silencing him.

"He's employed a violent duo to seek you out. They are not to be trifled with."

"Keh!" was all Inuyasha had to say on the matter. Miroku sighed. Stubborn…and prideful. His doom was almost certain. The conference was interrupted by the appearance of one of the women of Green Haven.

Now, you should take a moment to acquaint yourself with the forest in which our heroes reside, and the 'Green Haven' they keep within it. A tiny settlement near and around the hovel Miroku kept so deep in the woods, populated by farmers driven from their homes. Nearly two dozen men and a handful of women lived there, along with their children. Each tiny hut was made to look like part of the woods, covered in mosses and branches. Their fires were small, and produced little smoke. All were made in pits dug in the earth and surrounded by stones.

Inuyasha and Miroku lived in the original hut, and a small clearing in front of it served as a kitchen, meeting-room, and dining hall. A large pit was dug nearby, the central rallying point. All males over thirteen knew the use of a weapon, and the women were no strangers to the use of a bow.

The community, sarcastically named 'Green Haven' by Miroku, had developed over the past three years, since Inuyasha took refuge in Miroku's hovel.

Now, the woman named Arashi stood in their doorway. Her clothes were worn, and she kept her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was tied back by a long strip of fabric, the pale strands often falling in her face otherwise. Dark gray eyes surveyed the room.

"Pardon, Ladyship, but there's a bit 'o a probl'm out front. I need one of th' men – or both, if y' can spare 'em."

Miroku stood.

"I'll take care of it," he said to Inuyasha, and bowed to Kikyou before he left. The woman looked at Inuyasha mildly when Miroku's back was turned, and he understood. She was apart here, no matter how well the inhabitants treated her. Never would they ask her to clean the privy, or to skin a rabbit. Not even tiny, mundane tasks such as mending would be asked of her. She was a lady, after all, not just any old woman.

Stepping outside, Miroku found himself face to face with quite a problem.

Though she was a mess, she was still beautiful. Straggly brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, awkward-looking wisps falling out. Dark eyes glared defiantly at him from a tanned face, and rosebud lips curved into a frown. She wore a short, dirty tunic that was ragged and threadbare in places, and her hose was in no better shape. A dagger sat aside the cliff, presumably hers. Though she was ragged around the edges, a regular 'tatterdemalion' (the word he used when describing their refugees) there was a pride to her.

The girl – a young woman, really, though age was hard to tell beneath the dirt – knelt awkwardly on the ground, her elbows held by two of their men. What was that fire in her? She looked neither scared nor worried – if he hadn't known better, he would have thought she had intended to kneel on the ground, captive in a place she was unfamiliar with.

"What is your name?" he asked, motioning for them to release her. She sat, cross-legged on the ground, fiddling with the twine she used as a belt. Her eyes never left his, the defiant anger obvious.

"Rin," she snapped. Miroku laughed and sat on his haunches in front of her.

"It's odd that you would have the same name as the Princess," he said. "I am a man, my lady, but I'm not a fool."

She did not speak after that. Gently goading her, he said:

"Come now – there must be a pretty name to match your pretty face."

This earned him a snort of derisive laughter. What the hell was this guy up to? He was full of foolish words. She didn't know where she was – or what was going on. Restlessness drove her into the woods after her hunt, deeper than she'd ever ventured before. She'd never gotten lost before.

But when someone hits the back of your head with what feels like the butt of a dagger, and blindfolds you – you don't get much choice. Soon after she awoke, she found herself kneeling here, her weapon gone. Brilliant. Though now she knew there were no ghosts in the forest – only bandits.

But…if he was a bandit, why did he look like a priest?

Changing tactics, Miroku picked up the dagger and held it up.

"Is this yours?" he asked.

"Well, it isn't hers," Sango snapped, nodding her head at the woman who stood near the door to some hut. Miroku turned to see the maid that had come with Kikyou.

"You'd best go inside, Miss…"

"Kagome," she said. "I thought it best to leave my lady and Inuyasha in peace for awhile."  
The monk nodded. So they had moved on from business talk, had they? Well, at least Inuyasha's mood would improve. It was always like this. Kikyou visited once every fortnight or so. He was cranky when she came less often than that, positively cheerful for days after she left, and doe-eyed when she was there. Not that he'd admit to a bit of it.

"Perhaps Arashi would like some help with supper then, Miss Kagome."

The girl nodded, and was led away by Arashi, who was already explaining the different uses for potato they'd found (not the least of which were, by the by, four different dinners, two breakfasts and several cold midday meals).

"Why are you here?" he asked his captive. She hadn't tried to run, which surprised him. He was wondering about the pair in charge of capturing Inuyasha. Would she be one of them?

"I'd ask you the same, but all you seem to have are questions," she replied crisply. It was getting late, if she didn't get back soon, she wouldn't be in time to order a new tunic from Ayame. It was an odd thing to worry about, when her life was in the hands of strangers, but one thing at a time…

"You wandered a little too close to our home, my lady. We are nothing if not vigilant."

"Violent, you mean?"

Not pressing that issue – he'd find out soon enough what she meant – he tried again for a name. Who was this woman? It was infuriating, not knowing.

"I feel terrible, my lady, not knowing your name."

"I feel terrible being here," she countered.

Heavens above – she was difficult! She had wit – an admirable (if not dangerous) trait in a woman. Though right now, it did him little good.

"Then I will make you a deal, my lady."

She cocked her head, listening. 'He's handsome,' she thought suddenly. 'Dark hair, dark eyes, and a charming grin. He's a lover, for certain. His vows are probably broken on a nightly basis.'

Wondering where these thoughts appeared from, she almost missed his words.

"I'll fight you – staffs, no swords. If you beat me, you may leave. If I win, then you must tell me your name, and have a taste of Arashi's cooking."

She hesitated a moment, before nodding.

"I suppose I could do that," she agreed. He smiled and tossed her a staff from beside the main firepit. He would fight with his own staff.

---

sigh This piece isn't doing half as well as I'd wanted it to. But that's what I get for posting it in the middle of Beauty and the Beast and on the cusp of winter holidays. MAJOR kudos goes out to Kat, who made me write this whole thing by myself with no BETA-help. It was scary!

Now, I don't know how many of you are familiar with the story of Robin Hood (the original, not the Disney one). Remember it? Good. Throw it out the window. That's what I'm doing. Little details like 'It was Robin Hood who fought Little John, not Friar Tuck' etc. and 'Guy Gisbourne was a GUY' are being pointedly ignored in this story.

Well, see you all at chapter 3!

BETA Notes: I don't get it. She tells me to "BETA" her work, never mind the fact that its perfect (well, close enough) and what do I end up doing? Making a grand total of four comments (which were deleted, as per our agreement) and laughing my ass off at Miroku's...erm...how shall I put it? Stupidity? Lack of morals? Absolute lack of fear of Inu-yasha or Sango? Yeah, something like that.


	3. I Promise

AN: I don't know why I do author's notes for this story. I'm writing this one for me, mostly. Though it's a little sad that so few people are as excited about this as I am…goes off to sulk fangirlishly

-

If you wanted to get nitpicky, it was all Kikyou's fault. It was, after all, the arrival of Kikyou that ultimately sent Miroku out to deal with Arashi's 'problem'. It was her continued presence that had Miroku fighting Sango, instead of letting Inuyasha deal with her. That's what started it, after all. That fight. And if you were going to get really difficult about it, it was her deception that started the battle between the inhabitants of Green Haven and Hakudoshi's mercenaries. But that will be explained later.

Miroku and Sango stood on opposite sides of the broad, wet log that ran across the river. Miroku held his staff naturally – this was his preferred weapon. He had tied his sleeves back, exposing bare, muscled arms, and his hands were shoulder width apart. With a cheerful grin, he waved at her from his side of the log.

Sango, on the other hand, was a fish out of water. She'd never fought with a staff before – her skills were for hunting and self-defense, not combat. Her 'battle skills' were hand-to-hand moves made for quick, easy escapes. Her hands were held close to the middle of the staff – a long, smooth piece of oak capped on either end with brass. Great. Her first time into battle, with a weapon she'd never used before. Why not just give up now? It was mostly pride that made her wipe her emotion from her face and turn her back foot to center herself.

Miroku, noticing that she was ready, came at her with a high blow. She made a small, inarticulate noise and tried to block it, her grip sliding down the staff to hold it like a sword.

It wasn't working. He slid his staff up hers, bringing the other end around to smack her in the ribs. Sango yelped, swinging her staff down towards his shoulder. Her opponent blocked it easily.

And then…he stopped. Standing back, he regarded her with an odd sort of grin.

"This isn't going to work," he commented. She gave him a dry look.

"Why not? You were winning."

"That's not the point," he told her. She was startled when he slid around to stand behind her; his own staff left in front of them.

"Here," Miroku offered, reaching around her to put his hands over hers. Gently, he slid her hands up the staff, settling them at shoulder width apart. She gave a little shudder of shock, and felt her face coloring. What was he doing? He was too close!

"You strike like this," he explained, moving their hands to a high, middle, and low strike. "Block with the middle of your staff. If you do it right, you won't get your knuckles rapped."

She nodded mutely, feeling the blood rushing to her face. He released her hands and stood back. Only moments later, a feeling completely foreign took over Sango. Miroku had reached forward, and with a firm squeeze, grabbed her butt.

If possible, Sango became more flustered. She spun around to thwack him soundly; the high blow aimed at the crown of his head, only to find him gone. He had turned with her, rolling over his shoulder to grab his staff. He wobbled a little, the slippery log not making for good tumbling, but regained his balance in time to jab her in the back and get her attention.

She spun, and blocked his shot to her middle.

"You…" she hissed, embarrassed. She took a low swing at his legs; he knocked it up, taking another shot at her ribs. Now having been hit several times in the same spot, her rib cage was starting to throb. She hit his arm sharply, and then his opposite shoulder. Hah!

The exchange went on, Sango managing a few blows of her own, and blocking some of Miroku's. He stepped forward, put his leg between hers, and shoved her backwards with his staff. She tumbled backwards, but continued the roll over her shoulders and stood. He looked impressed.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked, rushing forward to swing at her. She moved to block it – only to find that it was a feint. He switched directions, hitting her hip. She took her own shot at him, and grinned.

"Mum was a tumbler," she explained. Miroku stopped the move, nodding appreciatively.

"I bet she was wonderful. And beautiful, if you are any indication."

She went red again, remembering why she disliked this man, and took a fierce swing at his midsection. She had twisted her back foot again, to give herself balance, and he grinned.

He never bothered to block the move, and Sango should've been concerned. Especially when his staff shot forward, hooked behind her back knee, and yanked upwards. Giving a shout of surprise, she fell over, off the log, and into the water.

Miroku smiled benignly at her when she resurfaced, wet and spluttering. When she opened her eyes, he was offering his hand to her. She took it, glowering at him. Quick as a flash, she grabbed his wrist with her other hand and pulled. He joined her in the water a moment later.

Sango laughed at the look of shock on his face, at the unintelligible noises he made as he brushed his now-loose hair out of his face. Revenge was sweet, even if she had lost the fight.

Mustering up what little dignity he had left, Miroku said in a prideful tone:

"I still win."

"Not from where I'm standing," Inuyasha called. They had apparently gathered an audience, for the hanyou was not alone. Most of the men, and a few women not involved in dinner stood at the bank of the river, watching them. Kikyou stood close to Inuyasha, a tiny smile playing over her face. Sango shook her head, and spoke to Miroku.

"I fell in first," she admitted, pulling herself out of the water. Miroku did the same, wringing the water out of his clothes when he stood on solid ground once more. Sango was wringing out her hair.

'You needed a bath,' she reminded herself. A hand clapped her shoulder, and she looked away from her task and into the eyes of Miroku.

"I'm getting dry clothes. You look about Umeko's size, and she should have a spare shift."

A redheaded woman, tiny like herself, walked forward, a baby on her hip.

"As long as you don't mind black," she said, sizing up the other woman. Sango spread her arms.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" she sighed.

The two of them laughed, and walked towards one of the hovels. When Sango re-emerged, she did indeed wear a black shift. It was a little tight at the hips, but the neckline came up to her collarbone and someone had lent her a length of cotton to bind her chest with. Her hair was let down to dry, and despite the slightly faded color of the dress, she felt better. These people weren't all bad.

"Just in time," the redhead commented. "Arashi's got dinner ready – and we have meat today. You're in luck."

They sat down on one of a few logs that had been dragged around the fire for seats. There were only a few spaces left, and Sango could see the monk helping two women dole out food. One of them was Ka…gome? She didn't quite remember, though it sounded about right. Bowls were passed around, and she took one quietly. As it turned out, it was the monk who came over to serve her food. Moving to pour the ladle's burden into her bowl, he paused with a grin.

"We had a deal," he reminded her, and she rolled her eyes.

"I don't know your name either," she told him, still a little sore over the loss. She never had taken losing well, though his soaking was going a long way to soothing her ego.

"You first," he said, serving the man beside her as well as Umeko.

"Sango," she said crisply. He smiled broadly and poured the stew into her bowl.

"Miroku," he replied. He paused a moment, still smiling at her, before moving on to another empty bowl. Sango looked down at her bowl, willing her face to stay the same color. What was with him? He bothered her, but not in the same way that Hakudoshi had, years ago. It was more of a pleasant bothering, and she hated how it felt.

-

"So where are you from miss?"

Sango looked up from her half-eaten dinner, trying to locate the speaker. A young man waved cheerily at her from a few people down the log. She half-recognized him as one of the men who had kept a grip on her before the monk had come out.

"Why do you ask?" she said, not a little sharply. He winked.

"Still sore, miss? My Umao has a poultice for that!"

A woman with short red hair flushed and smacked him in the arm.

"Shikako!" she squeaked, and Sango laughed.

"It's only my pride that's taken a beating today," she admitted. "And how very abused it has been."

Everyone laughed, the honesty of her statement appreciated. The subtle shot at Miroku was noticed and ignored, though she was certain he had noticed it. She wondered mildly when she would be able to go home, which brought her back to the question she had been asked in the first place.

"Doncaster," she admitted. The redheaded woman – Umao – looked at her speculatively.

"You certain? I thought Doncaster was all hunters."

"Even hunters need breeches," Sango replied. This awarded her another round of laughs, which was cut off only when a tiny child stumbled into the circle. His face was dirty, his clothes worn, but his expression was eager and shone through the muck.

"Are you a cook, Miss?"

Sango was a little taken aback. Her? A cook? Ayame had tried to teach her how to cook, once. She had managed to botch it horribly. She could make jerky from the meat she caught, and boil water, but most things aside that were beyond her.

"Not really…" she said, a little awkwardly. How did one speak with a child? Did you use small, uncomplicated ideas, or were they smarter than that? The only child she had ever really known was Kohaku, and he had been easy to figure out.

The child bobbed his head, and wandered off again. She was nervously quiet for a moment, and before she could say anything, the little boy toddled over again, something in his hands. He placed the object in her hands, and Sango looked down. It was lumpy and odd, the color of an alder tree. She recognized it immediately.

"Can you make that?" the boy asked, hopeful eyes stark against his mud-darkened face. She looked at the lump. Sure, she knew the recipe. Everyone in Doncaster knew it, even the men. But to make it was a little more complicated. It had to boil just the right length, until it was soft and firm. How to explain…

She was saved from the difficult task of telling the child – such a duckling! – that she would probably not be able to make the confection, though whether or not she'd be grateful to her savior (or his methods) was yet to be seen. Miroku once again intervened, kneeling in front of the child.

"Did you see Miss Sango and I fight?" he asked. The child bobbed his head.

"Yessir! You wholloped her good, Miroku!"

Sango grimaced. She didn't think she had done that badly…

The monk took the butterscotch from her, tossing it from hand to hand absently.

"Well, Satoru, I'd bet she cooks like she fights."

The little boy made a face and took his candy from Miroku. Turning to Sango, he gave a wobbly bow.

"Sorry I bothered you, Miss Sango," he said hastily as he started to skitter off. She and Miroku rose at almost the same moment, and he stepped back to watch her. A wry smile flitted across his face as the scene before him unfolded.

"Satoru, your name was?" Sango said crisply. "Well, Satoru, let me tell you that the Friar is wrong. I am perfectly capable of cooking. It is called Doncaster butterscotch, isn't it? And I am from Doncaster."

Satoru stared up at her in wide-eyed awe. Most of the inhabitants of Green Haven, were (like Satoru) looking at Sango, save for the few (including Inuyasha and Kikyou) who were looking at Miroku with a mixture of annoyance (Inuyasha) and respect on their faces.

The young woman kneeled down, looking the child in the eye.

"The next time I'm here, I'll make a batch," she told him sternly. "And we'll prove Friar Doubt wrong."

With that, she stood up again, patted Satoru on the head, and began to walk away. A young woman of equally messy looks scooped Satoru up, settling him into her lap to finish his supper. The young boy, however, was happier to watch Sango leave.

She didn't get far before Miroku caught up with her, and put a hand on her shoulder. She snapped around to face him, still in a bit of a huff (and completely unaware of Miroku's manipulation).

"Yes, Friar?" she prompted sharply, and he grinned at her.

"You have to wear this," he explained, holding up a blindfold. She looked at it dubiously, and he gave it a little wave.

"It doesn't bite, I promise."

Sango stuck out her tongue and spun around, lifting her hair out of the way. The Friar stepped forward, and began to tie the strip of fabric over her eyes.

"How do you intend to return to make Satoru's candy?" he asked as he fiddled with the knot. She gave a shrug.

"I'll get lost again, I suppose," she said. In all honesty, she didn't have a plan. She didn't even know why she said what she did. She couldn't cook. Maybe Ayame would teach her, and not ask many questions. Not likely – the woman was sweet, but she insisted on knowing everything.

"Or I'll give you this," he said, slipping something over her wrist. She heard the clack of wooden beads and felt the cool smoothness against her skin.

"The design on these beads match a design on a tree here."

"You want me to look for a tree," she said incredulously. "In a forest."

"Near where you were when you were grabbed. Don't worry – it's a pretty simple thing. Just wait there and someone will come get you."

"And if someone follows me?" she asked.

"You do worry so, Sango. Just don't be followed!" he chirped. With a firm tug, the blindfold was tied. Miroku leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"Let's go!"

She flushed, allowing him to take her arm and guide her. What was his problem? He was so…nonchalant. More so than normal. It was like he was trying to fluster her. She couldn't even respond. After all, he was guiding her. And while giving him a good solid slap would salve her pride and modesty, it wouldn't get her home.

They walked along in a silence that felt natural to Miroku but horribly awkward to Sango. When they finally stopped, and he pulled off the blindfold, they were still in the trees.

"We're less than a mile from Doncaster," he told her. She nodded and rubbed her eyes against the fading light. Everything was slow to come into focus. She blinked at him for a minute or so before she could see properly.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He winked roguishly at her, bowing over her hand and placing a tiny kiss on the back of it.

"Until next we meet, Miss Sango. Fare well!"

She stood with another blush spreading over her cheeks for a moment as he disappeared back into the forest. When the color in her cheeks faded away, and even his echo was gone, she walked the rest of the way back into town. It had been a long day.

But it was about to get longer.

-

This chapter almost killed me. Thank heavens I know what I'm doing for at least…one more chapter. If not two. Hopefully two – maybe I can make this next thing spill over a little longer.

I was asked a question about the pairings, by **Myriadragon**. My response?

After several hours of thinking and watching The Slayers, I have to say that that…is a secret! XD

But really, so far it's Inu/Kik. I feel compelled to mention, though, that (a) they're not the focal pairing and (b) you never know…

Oh! And by the way…did anyone catch the little joke in the last chapter's title? I mean, aside from the obvious one…

Until next time!

Beta's notes: I almost killed myself laughing in this chapter Mental hugs and chocolate to you, Lily-chan!


	4. Setting up your Downfall

"Sango!"

Sango spun around, looking for the source of the voice. Ayame was running towards her, the expression on her face showing relief. She waved frantically at the girl who still stood at the edge of the forest.

"Sango," Ayame gasped when she got to the woods. "Where did you go?"

"I was just hanging around," she sighed, grateful for the demoness' worry but annoyed all the same. Smoothing out her dress, panic shot through her.

_'Ah! How am I going to explain this!'_

The demoness, oblivious to her companion's frantic thoughts, rolled her eyes and tugged on Sango's wrist.

"Let's go, then. Kouga wants to talk to you."

Sango allowed herself to be pulled across the clearing to the village, but despite herself she looked back at the forest more than once. _One_ tree, for heaven's sake…

When they reached the village, something was off. A think, choking film of unease lay over everything like dust on a neglected mantle, and no one would meet her eyes. There was absolutely something wrong.

She was seated in front of Kouga, who tilted his chair back to balance on two legs and the wall behind him. Sango shifted nervously in her seat.

"Hakudoshi was through here today," he said conversationally.

"I–is that so?"

"Yup. That makes thrice times in less than a fortnight."

Ayame stood beside Kouga, looking a little worried. Sango frowned. Thrice…that would mean he'd visited nine times this month, with more than a fortnight until the next one. Surely the sheriff had better things to do than pester their village. Kouga continued.

"He seemed particularly keen on speaking to you."

"Why is that?" she asked carefully.

"I don't know. He would not speak of it. But…Sango," Kouga sighed and put his chair back on four legs. "The villagers have eyes, and ears as well as any. They speculate, and calculate, and already the gossip flies."

"What would you have me do?"

Ayame stepped forward.

"Stay put for a little while. He told us that he would visit again soon, so please – keep to the village until he comes to call."

Sango stood up.

"Why? If the sheriff's need to speak to me is so great, then he can wait for me as any other should!"

"That isn't the only reason. You must also take note of the rumors, and the recent sightings of bandits. What if that hanyou is responsible? Do you not remember Inuyasha? He killed his own mother and ran to the forest! He was never found," Kouga reminded firmly.

She shrugged.

"I can take care of myself."

"No one doubts that," Ayame said soothingly. "We just wish you would stay here, until Hakudoshi comes."

Sango thought for a moment. Maybe…

"If I stay," she started, "will you give me the recipe for butterscotch?"

Ayame and Kouga stared at her as if she had gone mad.

_'That's all?'_ Kouga thought_. 'Some old recipe? There has to be a catch.'_

But Ayame recovered quickly, and smiled.

"Absolutely."

"Then…it's settled," the now-imprisoned woman sighed. Drat…

She didn't mind having to stay; it was the lack of freedom that stung. Gladly she would have stayed if only she was allowed to leave at will. The knowledge of that freedom was comforting.

"One more thing, though," Ayame said. Sango froze.

_'Here it comes. She'll ask about my clothing, about my bracelet! I don't know what to say!'_

"You have to tell me when you learned to sew so well! And why did you have to do it out in the woods?"

Sango grimaced. Ah, well, at least she wasn't suspicious.

Several days later, Sango paced her living room anxiously. She had the recipe and a lie about the dress (now washed and dry, ready to return when next she reached Green Haven) was firmly rooted in Ayame's mind. She hadn't dared to try the recipe just yet, since she didn't have some of the ingredients and to ask for this so suddenly would be too much – especially on top of her recent behavior.

She had to get out!

This place was going to drive her mad. All her clothing was mended, her tiny home sparkled as well as a hut could, she had helped Ayame tan hides until her fingers were stiff from lashing the skins so tightly to their posts, and she had even done some work at the smithy! If she didn't see her forest soon, she would go mad.

So that night she tucked the recipe and Umeko's dress into a small pack, and slung it over her shoulder with her quiver. She picked up her bow and rushed out into the woods. Hakudoshi would not come in the middle of the night, and she would be back before the noonday meal! She intended to stay only long enough to prove Miroku wrong.

However, she had forgotten what a pain finding the tree would be. Not only was she trying to find one tree in the forest, but she was trying to find it in the dark. Not one of her brighter ideas… So she wandered until she felt that she was near where she'd been before, and began the long, aggravating search.

False dawn was sneaking through the trees when she heard a noise in the bushes. She reached for her bow, and fumbled only a moment with her quiver before knocking the arrow.

The arrow, however, had over plans. It slid off her finger, pointing towards the ground. With a cry of dismay she recaptured the errant projectile and pointed it at the noise.

"If I was an enemy you'd be dead right now," a gruff voice informed her. "You're the slowest archer I've ever seen."

"Have I found that stupid tree at last?" she asked the speaker, who was standing up with his arms raised. From what little light there was, she could see long black hair, and almost half a glimmer of brown eyes.

"Yea, it's behind you."

Sango rolled her eyes. Right. Put down the bow and turn around. Even if this guy wasn't an enemy, she refused to be that foolish.

"If you wait a little longer I'll take you back."

"Why not take me now?" she asked, hesitant to lower her bow.

"Because Miroku will tan the hide of anyone who leaves this spot untended, stupid! Even if it's me."

She wasn't entirely sure who 'me' was, but she lowered her bow. Whoever this was, he knew Miroku. The evidence was piling in his favor.

"Just wait for dawn," the gruff voice sighed. Sango nodded, and leaned back against the tree that was, indeed, behind her. It would only be an hour or so until the sun broke through the trees – come to think of it…

"It is dawn," she said, realizing. "It'll be awhile before the rest of the light breaks through the trees, but its dawn."

"Then we'll wait for the light," the man growled acerbically. She frowned, and cocked her head to the side.

"I thought the new shift came at dawn."

"Just shut up!"

About to send a sharp retort towards the man, she stopped. Giving a sigh, she leaned against the tree to wait for first light. A leaf fluttered above her head. Sango concentrated on it, gauging the light by the colors of the leaf.

Soft green, barely a shimmer as the weak light staggered into the woods. Stronger, stronger, warming up and waking up. The gold sun slowly piercing through the foliage, casting patterns of radiance and dark over everything. Her focus spread from the leaf to the trees, and she watched in awe as the light came in. Shadows fading, light prevailing, the warmth spreading light and life like a cloak over the woods.

She was absorbed by the marvel, and so nearly jumped out of her skin when the man called to her again.

"Oy," he said, stepping out of the bushes. Sango gave a cry and snatched up her bow. The arrow knocked a little quicker, but not much.

Another man entirely stood in front of her. She would have forgiven the dark hair turned silver and the brown eyes to gold were it not for two dog-ears standing erect on the top of his head.

"Who are you?" she asked in a firm, but quiet, voice. He rolled his eyes.

"Inuyasha. Now come on, get ready. Shinnosuke will be here soon."

Inuyasha. The name struck a nerve.

_"…Do you not remember Inuyasha? He killed his own mother and ran to the forest! He was never found…"_

"You!" she cried. She let her arrow fly, and thankfully for Inuyasha (whose back had been turned) she missed her mark and it flew off into the trees. He spun around, and glared at her.

"What the –"

She scrambled for another arrow, and loosed it. This one only barely missed its mark.

"Killer!" she screamed. "Murderer!"

Inuyasha leapt forward, and Sango lurched backwards, tripping a little.

"Dammit, woman! I don't have _time_ for this. Just shut up and let's go."

He grabbed her bow as she tried to knock another arrow. She gave a cry, and tugged a dagger from her waist, slashing blindly at him. He jumped back, into the trees, and she spun around in search of him.

Before things could proceed further, however, a cheerfully curious voice filled her ears.

"Now while I'm certain that there's a very good reason why Inuyasha is hiding in a tree, Sango, I'd rather hear it back at camp. What say you to that?"

The young woman spun around to see Miroku, leaning against a tree with a grin that she would soon learn was his 'signature' expression. She didn't sheath her knife.

"You harbor a murderer!" she accused fiercely. Miroku nodded.

"Oh, yes. Two of them. Four deserters, six tax dodgers and an uncountable number of thieves, also."

Sango's jaw dropped, and she spluttered in anger and confusion for a moment.

"But…wh – He killed his own mother!"

"I did nothing of the sort!" Inuyasha shouted furiously from his perch. Miroku looked up to where the sound came from.

"Sango, dear, sheath that please. I believe Inuyasha fears for his life."

"And for good reason!" the two snapped back in unison. Miroku gave a chuckle.

"Now," he sighed coming forward to put a hand on Sango's shoulder as her blade went back to its sheath grudgingly. "Sango, if you promise to keep that demon-killer put away, I promise that Inuyasha won't try anything icky. That includes murder or maiming, I swear it."

She nodded hesitantly, and Inuyasha dropped out of the tree. Sending him back up said tree to collect her bow, Sango asked:

"Demon killer?"

Miroku tapped the sheath of her knife, tucking Sango under his arm. She wriggled free, and he sent her a pained look before explaining.

"Against a dagger like that, a demon's power is useless. It will kill someone of demon blood as easily as one who is wholly human."

She looked down at her weapon, surprised. Kouga…that wretch. He had given it to her not long after Kohaku had died. He must've known. Despite the less-than-kind thoughts she held for the wolf demon at the moment, she was grateful.

Miroku clapped his hands together as Inuyasha handed Sango her bow.

"Well, then! Off you two go. I'll be back by the noonday meal."

Inuyasha and Sango – standing more than an arm's width apart, started walking. Before Miroku was even out of sight, however, Inuyasha turned back.

"Hold it!" he cried, and Miroku paused. He had been starting to climb up the tree (_the _tree being that which was marked to be found).

"Where the hell is Shinnosuke?"

Miroku grinned.

"Wakana had twins," he told his friend. "He's busy rejoicing over the fact that both children, and their mother, are doing well. I let him be."

Inuyasha nodded, and turned back. Gesturing vaguely at Sango to follow, they began the trek back to Green Haven. Halfway down the path, Sango remembered her plan to be back by noon.

Ah, well, supper would be fine as well.

* * *

She milled around Green Haven – after returning Umeko's dress – for the better part of the morning. She was introduced to a good many people – including the overjoyed new parents Wakana and Shinnosuke. Wakana had (for obvious reasons) been more than tired, but happy all the same to meet her.

"I can't wait for my lying-in to be done with!" she had sighed quietly when the twins were asleep. The two little boys had been squalling hungrily when Sango had entered (at the insistence of Shinnosuke and Shikako, who were already trading father stories). She and Wakana had talked, mostly about 'women things'. Things like that were half-remembered by Sango, who hadn't cooked for more than one in over a year. She was surprised to find that she enjoyed herself – she hadn't expected that talking about how to make Sunday's chicken last a little longer to be so pleasant.

At one point during the morning, after Wakana had fallen asleep and she had wandered off to look around more, she found herself even fantasizing about being…well…a woman. Doing house-chores for a family again. It sounded nice. Peaceful.

Her little fantasy was lost, however, when Miroku strolled into the clearing with a smile. He caught up with her almost immediately, and started chatting.

"I told you I'd be back by noon," he greeted. Sango blinked, and looked up at the sun. It was, indeed, noon. How had the time passed so quickly?

"So?" she scoffed. He sighed.

"Never mind. Have you eaten?"

When she admitted that, indeed, she hadn't, he guided her over to the large pot where she had supped not long ago.

"Neither have I, not since I left," he told her. "I should have taken some bread and cheese. I'm famished!"

"Next time you'll know," Umao scolded, doling them out barley soup. They ate in a companionable silence, and almost as soon as Sango had taken her last spoonful of soup – and wonderful it had been, for barley – he asked about the butterscotch.

"If you have what I need, I can make it," she had said pridefully, handing her bowl back to Umao, who passed it to the children doing dishes. Miroku nodded, and propped his chin on his hand.

"Care to take a wager on it?"

"On what?"

"Whether or not Satoru will accept your candy."

She folded her arms and regarded him with mild amusement.

"You're a clergyman. You cannot gamble."

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it! I can pardon myself as quickly as I sin."

"Somehow I don't think it's supposed to work that way!" Inuyasha yelled from the bench where he had just sat down to eat. Miroku made a face at him, and looked up at Sango.

"Do you accept?"

Unable to resist, she shook the hand he had extended.

"I do. What do we play for?"

"If you win…" he paused, thinking for a moment."If you win, you may see the route we take to Green Haven."

"And if you win?" she prodded. He smirked and stood. When he began to walk past her, she thought that he might ignore her question. This was proved wrong when he said, in a voice so quiet she almost didn't hear:

"I claim a kiss."

As Kat-chan said, my stories without fluff would be…not my stories. So, enjoy this little teaser.

And I _sincerely_ apologize for the unholy and disgusting wait on this chapter. The next one won't take even a couple days, I promise. And then chapter six...groans


	5. Butterscotch isn't the Only Thing that C...

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a hot blush fill her cheeks. What was he playing at? That wasn't fair. But she had already said yes…oh, what a cheater he was. But in the pit of her stomach, a terrible feeling of maybe _wanting_ to lose was growing.

"Well then, you lecher," a voice said fondly, "she'll just have to win, won't she?"

Sango looked up into Umao's face, and smiled gratefully. Miroku sighed dramatically.

"Am I so disliked?"

Umao laughed.

"You're not disliked, Friar. Just denied. Come then, Miss Sango, and we'll get you started."

Sango trotted dutifully after Umao, who had somehow gotten her hands on the recipe, and was calling out for ingredients.

"This is pretty simple, isn't it?"

The hunter sighed, and shook her head.

"To you, mayhap it is. But for me…oy…"

Umao gave a throaty chuckle and knelt down to start the fire. Soon a proper blaze was going.

"Sugar and milk first," she said, handing Sango the ingredients. She dumped them in, and Umao handed the recipe back.

"Good luck!" she called as she walked off.

"Aren't you going to help?" Sango asked, panicking a little.

"That'd be cheating!" Umao called over her shoulder, and kept going. Our heroine, now left with the daunting task of cooking butterscotch, rolled up her sleeves and resigned herself to the task.

'No use moaning,' she sighed to herself, looking over the parchment. _'I may as well get this going.'_

she sighed to herself, looking over the parchment. 

It was moving along well until she came to the 'secret ingredient'. She sighed. Of course Ayame would call it that – it would seem much more _fun _to her. Vaguely remembering the tiny pouch of powder that the wolf demon had given her, she pulled it out and dropped a pinch in. It dissolved quickly, and Sango looked back at the recipe.

Boil hard…what the hell? She felt a little lost. Most of it had been, so far, add this much of this, dissolve this, put in a pinch of this. Boil hard? For how long? What should it look like? She read on, only to find that it should be 'firm, but not brittle, when a small portion is dropped into cold water'. Oh, great.

She allowed it to rise to a boil, but as she stirred, she noticed little difference. It was still watery, with white particles floating to the top (presumably from the milk). Panicking more than a little she gathered up a bowl of water and dropped a bit it. It exploded into a white, milky cloud and she gave a squeak. What was it doing!

Meanwhile, the contents of her large pot had thickened, and was now more of a paste than anything. Was it going to be brittle now? She was getting more than a little frustrated. She took another portion and dropped it in. It was still sticky when she pulled it out. Firm? Not really…

Sango let it boil awhile longer, before trying it again. Much better! But when she pulled the tiny bit out of the water, it crumbled in her hands. Shite! Now it was brittle. Too late now…

She poured it into a tin pan to let it set, wondering at the expanse of cooking supplies they had here. Then, with a resigned little sigh, she sat back to wait for the butterscotch to harden into…whatever it was going to be. A little over an hour later, she stood up and took a piece from the pan.

"Who'll be the judge?" she asked Miroku. The piece of candy was crumbling in her hand. The Friar grinned cheerily.

"Satoru, I believe."

The child was easy to track down. He was playing in the mud with several other boys from Green Haven, and all of them were coated in it. She smiled, remembering the days when she would have played in the mud with her friends. That was, until, her mother had plucked her out of the filth and insisted that little ladies did not play in the dirt. They stitched, and cooked, and cleaned. Miroku plucked the boy from his mess.

Satoru made a face at him, calling him something that had Sango blushing to her hairline. When the boy saw her, however, he smiled.

"You came back!"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

The boy nodded absently, his eyes drifting down to the candy in her hand. Miroku was the first to notice, and said:

"Would you like to try it?"

Satoru bobbed his head eagerly, and Sango held in a laugh. She handed him the butterscotch, and he popped the whole thing into his mouth at once. He chewed for a moment, and she stood nervously aside Miroku. If she lost, would he really…she dropped that train of thought when the little boy – totally unaware of the weight his answer held – swallowed and blinked.

"…So?" she asked, anxious. He cracked his neck a little, and shrugged before he looked up at her with wide, brown eyes.

"Crumbly," he told her. She sighed.

"Yes, I knew that much. How's the taste?"

Satoru shrugged again.

"It was crumbly," he repeated with distaste, and Sango gave a squeak of dismay. Of course! She remembered doing this with Kohaku – when he had insisted that his story be told in exactly the same words each night. Since it hadn't been exactly the same as the other candy…she groaned and put her head in her hands. Oh, _why_ had they decided to judge it by a child's standard?

The boy, not knowing why she was getting so weird over a crumbly bit of sweet, ran back to play in the mud.

"It looks like a win for you, Friar," she said into her hands. She was fully expecting the strong, callused hands that tugged at her arms and forced her to look up at Miroku, and so wasn't surprised when she found herself looking into eyes that were oddest shade of blue…

He smiled.

"I'll collect later," he told her, and walked off. She groaned, and fell back against a large oak tree. Umao came to stand by her.

"Rotten luck, dear," she sighed. "But at least you're not kissing a pig."

She grinned wickedly.

"Come to think of it…why should kissing Miroku be so horrid for you? He's easy on the eyes, and from the word's said down in Pontefrac he's not totally naïve."

Sango only gave another sigh of discontent. Of course Umao didn't understand, she was married with a child. The same child, come to think of it, who had so casually tossed her this fate. But she couldn't blame him. He was, after all, just a boy. But for her…it was a little different. She hadn't been more than thirteen, perhaps, when she noticed the looks she got.

It hadn't mattered much to her until the blacksmith's son had tried to grab her on her way back from doing the wash. She had wholloped him good, and huffed back home with indignant embarrassment, but her father had avoided the topic quite pointedly. Thinking of it…if it hadn't been for Ayame, she wouldn't have understood why, only a few months later, she woke up with bloody sheets. Thanks to her, by no means did Sango misunderstand what happened between men and women, and why twoing was usually a bad idea if you weren't married. But her experience was somewhat…lacking.

For some reason, this embarrassed her worse than when she had run crying to Ayame when her father had no answers for the blood around her.

Changing the topic, Umao asked if Sango was staying for dinner. The hunter gave a cry of dismay.

"Drat! I'd wished to be back by the evening meal…" she growled, and Inuyasha (who had just walked into the clearing with several plump birds trailing behind him on a string) scoffed.

"Why the hell do you care about the time?"

She stood up, glaring fiercely at him.

"I wasn't supposed to leave!" she snapped back sharply. "Why else would I have been searching for one blasted tree in the middle of the night?"

"Well, you've obviously a lack of wit, then! Do you want a thousand others to find this place?"

"Thus my reason for leaving in the night!"

Shikako laughed at them as he took the birds from Inuyasha.

"You two are almost as grand to watch as the sparring practice!"

Inuyasha glowered at the man.

"Just shut up!" he snapped, and stormed off. Miroku was exiting the hut when the half-demon passed him, and he raised an eyebrow. Upon seeing that Sango wore an equally annoyed expression, he understood.

"Is anything amiss?" he asked, not minding when she snapped at him for asking stupid questions.

"Obviously! I need to get home."

He nodded, and disappeared after the blindfold, which the hunter donned quickly.

"Thank you," she said. He took her hand – the touch sent a sharp tingle through Sango's body – and they were off. At the same place as before, a mile from the edge of the woods, he removed her blindfold.

"Come to look for the tree again," he said with a kind smile. "And don't mind Inuyasha. He gets a little surly sometimes."

"A little?" she scoffed. Miroku sighed, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You must understand…his past is a dark one. To be accused of killing one's own mother, and not knowing who truly committed the crime is a hard thing to live with. I don't suppose he'll ever go back to village life again."

"He can't, though, can he? Not after…" she paused, the meaning of Miroku's words sinking in. "Oh."

The Friar chucked.

"What a dark mood for us to be in. I suppose I should go now, before I worry you further. Don't be long in returning to us."

Sango nodded, smiling a little. Her mind was away as she walked through the woods, nearer to what Miroku had spoken of than anything. So deep was her thought that the scent of ashes on the wind almost passed her attention.

Almost.

Finding herself at the edge of the clearing, she looked up and was greeted with something unusual and wholly terrible.

Not half a mile from her the ground was charred in every direction. Black, acrid smoke still rose from the smoldering ruins. Charred wood lay everywhere, half-fallen walls of gutted buildings seemed ready to crumble if she had dared to touch them. Not that she could get close enough to the ruins to do so…she was frozen in shock. Embers still glowed in places, and nearby she heard the snap and sputter of a handful of tiny flames that had refused to leave the place she had once called home.

Home…

She stumbled forward at a run. It was happening again. The fire had come back to finish the job it had started years before. It had taken her father and Kohaku, and now it had taken everyone else. Tripping over herself, she fell into the sooty rubble where Ayame and Kouga's home had once stood. She tore through the debris, ignoring the tears that ran down her cheeks and the ashes that began to cling to her. She had to get them out…had to save them! They were still safe! They had to be!

An odd noise met her ears at the next billow of smoky wind that passed her. It was choked, and half formed, a sobbing sort of scream that was almost coherent but not quite. She didn't realize it was her own voice.

Her hands brushed against something solid. She brushed away more of the ashes, and despite the heat around her she felt so very cold…She touched the charred pile gently, for fear that the bones would turn to ash as the rest of her life had, and fly away from her. They were entangled, and bits of flesh still clung to the bones of the wolf demon and his kind mate. A clump of red hair still held fast to one of the skulls, and the cold that had settled into Sango turned to dust. To ash.

"Ashes, ashes, they all fall down…" she whispered, and gave a little laugh, then a hiccup. She was choking on her tears, choking on the smoke, choking on the hot, bitter slap in the face that told her just what had happened while she was gone.

"Oops," she giggled, giving another hiccup. "I guess I messed up."

She hiccuped once more, and choked back a sob. It only half-worked, and came out with the next hysterical little chuckle.

"Oops."

She stumbled to her feet, and wavered where she stood.

"I guess I should have stayed, neh? If I had, I wouldn't have seen this. If I had…" her voice rose to a hysterical pitch, she was screaming through her tears now. "If I had, you would've killed me in my sleep with the rest of them, you God-forsaken sonofabitch!"

She didn't know who she was screaming at, who she was throwing rocks, embers, and wood at. Maybe the fire…maybe the sheriff, maybe whatever creature had set to fire her life. Anger, white-hot, chased the fire through her, letting the scorched remains of her life imprint themselves on her mind to be mulled over late at night.

"Come and finish the job, dammit! You have to finish the job! Come and kill me, too, why don't you! Just _kill me_!"

She threw another ember at the nothingness around that was quickly finding a place inside her. She tripped again, and fell. This time she didn't stand, but curled herself into a ball and sobbed.

"Just kill me," she whimpered to the air. "Take me too…don't leave me here…"

* * *

At the same time as Sango stepped out of the woods Miroku had almost made it back to Green Haven. Kagome ran out to meet him, clutching something to her chest.

"When did you get to Green Haven?" he asked pleasantly, also wondering how she knew the way out. She shrugged.

"Not long ago. Miss Umeko said that Miss Sango left this," the young girl said, holding out Sango's bag. Miroku took it, confused. Couldn't they just return it the next time Sango was there?

Kagome looked away.

"I have a feeling you should return it to her now," she said quietly. "Go quickly – please."

"Far be it for me to refuse the request of a lady," he agreed, and turned around. He started at a brisk walk, which turned into a run when a sudden rush of unease hit him before Kagome was out of sight. He had to hurry.

* * *

"Come and finish the job, dammit! You have to finish the job! Come and kill me, too, why don't you! Just _kill me_!" 

He was shocked to see Sango throwing things around, screaming almost incoherently at nothing. And then he noticed her village, or what was left of it.

Dropping the bag, he ran over to her. He didn't catch what she said when she fell, but he didn't miss the look on her face. The pain, the sorrow, and the torture of realizing the ones you cared about were gone forever. He knew what that felt like, and though he tried to deny it, he still remembered every moment of his father's death with crystalline clarity. He heard her choke on a sob, and he put a hand on her shoulder.

She sat up quickly, lashing out at the unknown touch. Perhaps her wish had been granted. Good. She opened her eyes to greet the death she wanted so badly and found a much different sight. Miroku kneeled in the debris next to her.

Sango didn't know what to think, or to say. She didn't even know what she felt now. So she sat mute, confused, staring at Miroku for all the world as if he was a giant lavender teapot or something equally odd.

Miroku, for his own part, covered Sango's hands with his own.

"Would you care for some help with the burials?" he asked. It took a long moment for Sango to process what he was asking, but when she did, she fell into him and cried again, clinging to his robes. He understood, and put his arms around her gently, holding her and rocking her gently; making soft, soothing noises while she waited for her world to stop spinning so fast.

They sat like that until the sun set and longer, and when Sango finally fell asleep, Miroku picked her up – surprised at how light she was – and carried her back to Green Haven. He and Inuyasha would spend the whole of the next day digging through the rubble, uncovering as many bones as they could, and burying each person in a grave of their own.

* * *

Itold you all this would be up soon, so that I couldmake up for such a long wait.But…-cackles happily- everyone is back on track now! Things should be a little more in character from now on. Come to think of it, though, it's a little sad that I had to kill off an entire village simply to get Sango back in character. But it was important to my plot, too…(I can just hear Kat-chan now… _'What! You have a plot!')_

By the way...just a note, here, for Aamalie-chan (because I'd feel bad about not saying something). I'm not going to be using MSNIM for quite awhile, because of a couple personal things that have been going on. Sorry about that!


	6. The Better Beginning

The next few weeks were hard on Sango. She didn't speak, except when asked to help (which wasn't often). Her work was thorough, and well done, despite her disquieted silence. She ate sparingly at mealtimes, leaving most of what she ate to the children of Green Haven. If she slept more than a few hours at a time, it didn't show, and when she did sleep, it was only to find herself immersed in nightmares, where the flesh melted from the bones of those she loved, and she found herself talking to their skeletons.

It was after one such nightmare that Sango found herself wandering around the woods of Green Haven, taking solace in the silence and the dark. Flashes of moonlight filtered through the trees, and she looked for the clearing she wished to lay in. It wasn't large, maybe ten paces across at most. But if she lay on her back, and the night was clear, she could see the stars and remember the tales that her father had woven for her as a little girl.

Stories of brave heroes immortalized in the stars, little lessons on the making and use of weapons – those where what she had from her father. Explanations of why yew was better than oak for a longbow, little tricks of knife-work to help her escape if needed.

She had known her life back then, what was expected of her and what was planned. Her minimal cooking and cleaning skills had gotten them through, and Ayame would teach her more as she needed it. She would grow, marry, have children, and die. Nothing spectacular or exciting.

Then her father and Kohaku had died.

Things changed, more than a little. She no longer cooked and cleaned for three, but one. Ayame and Kouga had asked her to move in with them, but she had declined. She didn't want to leave the house she had grown up in. Even if the memories were painful…they were _her_ memories.

So she learned how to defend herself a bit better, how to handle her taxes. When the blacksmith's son asked for her in marriage, she declined. No one bothered her over it. She hunted, cleaned when it was necessary, and cooked well enough to survive winter. She would hunt, grow old, and die. Nothing spectacular or exciting.

She sighed. What would happen now? There was nothing left that she knew. Nothing. All she could do now was wait for death – and she was not a patient person. The stars glittered back at her sympathetically, until a dark figure blotted her vision.

Sango was up in a flash, fumbling for her dagger. A soft laugh met her ears, and she stopped, peering at the tall, slim figure in front of her.

"Lady Kikyou?" she asked quietly. The figure nodded, and stepped back into the clearing. Another small figure flittered past them in the darkness, and Sango figured it as Kagome.

"May I speak with you?" Kikyou asked gently. Sango nodded, dropping an awkward curtsy. Kikyou waved it off and sat in the grass.

"I do not want to speak to you as nobility," she said. The hunter nodded, and sat down beside the older woman. Kikyou looked up at the stars.

"I was to be married, once."

Sango gave a start, wondering where this was coming from – and where it would go. The lady went on, ignoring Sango's surprise.

"When I was no more than perhaps fifteen, I was to marry a childhood friend. The Queen arranged it all – my mother-in-law to be wished for my lands. I didn't want to marry him, this boy I had once slid down banisters with. He had grown into a poor man, violent and loose with his women, and worse so with his money. So I made a decision, and Kagome took me to an old woman from her village. Kaede. She gave me something I could use to kill myself quickly, without a trace. But I never got the chance to use it. The day before we were to be married, he was killed. It was an accident – as far as I know, and I know very little. But that's beside the point. He was buried, and I went on as an unmarried vassal. Rather unheard of, but due to the assumed trauma of losing my fiancé, I was allowed to remain as I was.

"I spent most of the day he died in my room, in solitude. Planning when and how to use the powder Kaede gave me. There was a cold inside my heart when I thought of killing myself, and I couldn't shake it. A thousand reminders of what waited for me in life couldn't move the chill from its throne. But it wasn't until after I was given the news that I understood. The chill was beyond fear. It was terror, and shame."

"Shame?" Sango asked, a little confused. Kikyou nodded.

"For you see…by choosing to take the powder, I was damning myself not only to hell, but as a coward."

She stood then, leaving the hunter to stare up at her. She moved away, and had almost reached the edge of the forest when she stopped.

"The courage it requires to take your own life is momentary. The courage needed to live is far greater. As a woman who has the freedom to choose either path, which do you have?"

And with that, she was gone; slipping away into the forest before Sango could say anything. It was almost another hour before she herself stood, and began down the path to Green Haven, in the new light of dawn that was coming to them.

"Damn them all to hell!" a voice cried as Miroku walked past the hut that he and Inuyasha shared. He blinked, and stuck his head in. It was mostly dark, despite the sun shining down on them outside. A single ray of morning light filtered in from the half-formed window. The hanyou was leaning on the table, fists clenched and chair on the floor – apparently he had stood rather quickly. Kikyou sat across from him at the table, looking calmly up at him, waiting for his temper to run it's erratic course. Kagome sat next to her, looking rather surprised and a little nervous.

"He's all bark, my dear Kagome," Miroku told her as he entered the hut fully. She nodded a little uncertainly, but was willing to leave things as they were for now. He looked at Kikyou, or rather, where he thought she was (his eyes were adjusting to the lack of light slowly), awaiting an explanation.

"We were wrong about the trio," she told him matter-of-factly. Her face betrayed nothing as she spoke, as if their lives – and the lives of those in Green Haven – meant nothing. This time, it was the friar who swore. Kagome's ears turned pink from her blush. He pulled up a chair and snatched the papers off the table. This complicated things. After a moment, he sighed.

"So she wasn't the third member."

"No," Inuyasha growled as he, too, sat down, his temper ebbing for the moment. "She was independent. There's more money on us now."

He tossed a couple of wanted posters at his companion, who scanned them with an increasingly troubled look on his face. 50 pounds – thrice what had been offered before, and then some. Hakudoshi was getting desperate, but…

"What I want to know is –"

Loud noises from outside stopped the conversation. It sounded almost like a battle, the shouts and cries of the residents of Green Haven, and the loud noises of something – or someone as unknown as the identity of the final member of Hakudoshi's trio. Miroku and Inuyasha both rose at once, and rushed out of the hut.

The oddest of sights greeted them. The others were, indeed, rushing to arms, but it was what they fought against that caused such commotion. Miroku didn't notice at first – being too concerned with the fact that not only once, but twice in the past fortnight had an outsider blundered into their camp.

But looking at the great pink…bubble, swollen and furious, with the voice of a young child – he wasn't so sure that he should worry. Ropes were thrown over the monstrosity, and his thoughts turned to visibility.

"Keep it out of sight, for God's sake!" Inuyasha yelled, his mind moving to the same thing as Miroku's. The ropes tugged harder, and the thing wriggled in its spidery net.

"Let _go_!" it hollered, the ridiculous voice indignant and frustrated. A great gust of wind nearly knocked Miroku over, and he heard the sounds of coughing as a smoke, equally lurid in it's pink color, filled the clearing. He himself gave a hacking cough as the tendrils filled his lungs and greedily snatched away his breath. When the smoke cleared, the creature was gone. Cries of shock and curiosity filled the air in the absence of both the smoke and the being. Miroku heard Inuyasha swear violently.

"What has happened?" Kikyou asked, striding out of the hut with Kagome trailing behind her.

"Damned if I know," Inuyasha sighed. He grabbed the arm of the nearest man.

"What's going on, here?" he demanded.

"I-I don't know!" he stammered. "It just…it just appeared out of n-nowhere."

"A giant talking bubble just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of our camp, and then magically disappeared again," The hanyou drawled sarcastically. When the man nodded ardently, he released his captive – who promptly ran off to help begin the repairs.

Meanwhile, Sango was returning from the lake. After speaking with Kikyou, the cool water had been a crisp awakening, and she felt almost human once again. Occupied with tying her hair up and out of her face, she was not prepared for something to come tearing out of the bushes and knock her over.

She gave a cry of shock as she hit the ground, by chance her hand slipped and grabbed a soft pile of moss. Dazed, the wind knocked out of her, she barely noticed that the moss was moving beneath her hand until sharp little teeth cut into her thumb, piercing the skin and causing blood to well up from the wound.

While she did release that-which-was-certainly-not-moss, she twisted around to grab it again with her other hand and pull it up in front of her face.

"Letmegoletmegoletmego…" it was wailing, still struggling in her grip. Sango did not release the tail, but stood and nursed her wounded hand. Drat. She'd have to hope that Miroku had more bandages. Considering the numbers that he and Inuyasha had on their hands, well, she wasn't so sure. He still hadn't told her where the splinters and bruises came from, but she knew. He and Inuyasha had gone and buried the…she'd have to thank him.

"Who are you?" she asked softly, her voice firm. It continued wailing, giving no sign of even having heard her. With a resigned sigh, she held it a good few feet away from her and walked towards camp. She could get some answers there, since that was the direction he had run from.

"Whose is he?" she asked loudly when she entered the field. A hush fell over the clearing, and everyone stared at the woman they though they'd never again see alive. Not only was she whole and apparently well, but she was also holding…something…by it's tail.

Miroku, who had rolled up his sleeves to lend a hand, looked up as well. Despite the fact that she was wet, and that she held an odd little bundle of energy in one hand, he stood up and strode over to her. Without hesitating a moment he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

Sango flushed from her head to her toes. Or perhaps the flaming warmth was just the fact that Miroku had her wrapped in his arms with no intention of letting her go anytime soon. She would rather not have to think about it. That wasn't too difficult, breathing in the scent of forest and church that surrounded him. It was easy not to think, and she was tempted to close her eyes and enjoy it. But after a moment that was both too long and horribly short, she coughed awkwardly.

"Friar…Can you let go?"

Then she felt something. It wasn't a new sensation, but it had been awhile since it had caught her – which was a bad choice of words. The creepling feel of a hand sliding over her bottom was most definitely present. Giving a tiny, choked cry of outrage, Sango slapped him.

"Pervert!" she huffed, and marched towards the little hut that she now shared with Umeko. The young woman had been more than happy to open her home to Sango, and she appreciated it greatly (though showing that appreciation had been hard for her so far). Thankfully, their hut was still standing, so she had no problem entering the hut and tying the arms of the wriggling little brat. Except when it came to tying him.

When she approached the nameless pest with a length of rope, a cloud of dust filled the air and she choked. When the smoke cleared (and it took awhile) the child was gone. In his place was a statue that looked almost comical. She picked it up, giving a grunt at its weight, and walked back outside to find Miroku. Pervert though he was, if this kid had left this pain-in-the-arse behind, then hopefully they could find him.

When she did find him, he looked at the statue with curious confusion.

"I don't entirely understand myself…tell me what happened?"

She began to explain, but got only as far as to speak about the cloud before he interrupted, taking the statue form it and giving it a sound thump on the top.

"That was no child," he said. "Or rather, no human child. Probably a fox demon. We'll just have to find him."

Sango stared blankly at him.

"Listen," he said mildly. At first, they could hear nothing – save for the sounds of the camp. Crackling of the fire, chatter and footsteps, and…huffing? A clatter followed, and it sounded much like whoever was clanking around was having a hard time.

Inuyasha stepped forward and grabbed a dented saucepan, flipping it so that the fox demon underneath it landed neatly inside. The kit cried out in surprise and pain when the half demon smacked him upside the head.

"Is this what you were looking for?" he asked gruffly, extending both the saucepan and it's occupant. Sango held in a little laugh and nodded.

The Friar gathered the bundle of energy up, and he, Sango, and Inuyasha re-entered Umeko's hut. This time, when they bound the child, he didn't escape.

"Do you have a name?" Miroku asked pleasantly. The fox cub made a face at him.

"Let me go!"

"Not a chance!" Inuyasha snarled, hitting him again. Sango hit him back, and when Inuyasha asked 'what the hell that was for', she replied sternly:

"Violence isn't the solution here."

Seeing that his companion was about to respond in a way that would most certainly spark troublesome events, Miroku stepped between them, resting a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Play nice, you two."

His hand slid from Sango's shoulder to her bottom, and she gave a cry, turning to crack him across the cheek. The Friar laughed sheepishly, though the noise was drowned out by the laughter of a child.

All three of them turned to see their captive chortling merrily at them.

"You're crazy!" he told them. Miroku smiled.

"Is that so?"

"Yea."

Inuyasha growled again, earning him a warning look from both Sango and Miroku.

"My name's Shippo!" the cub chirped. Sango looked at him.

"It's nice to meet you," she said. Shippo beamed at her, his smile showing sharp teeth.

"Oh!" the woman gasped, remembering. "Friar, would you happen to have any bandages left on hand?"

"New weaves in the cupboard!" Umeko called from outside. Sango called out her thanks, and after digging the fresh roll of bandages from the cupboard, began struggling to wrap her hand. It was difficult.

Two large, warm hands covered hers and she looked up at the smiling Miroku. She smiled back, a little unsettled by how much she liked the feel of his rough, chapped hands helping her bandage the wound. When he was done, he kept his grip on her hands a little longer, before releasing them.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He shrugged.

"It's no trouble."

They looked at each other for a moment, and Sango found herself wondering just why she had been so upset over the prospect of kissing him. It didn't seem so bad, now.

The two of them were shaken from their private moment by the loud sound of Shippo's wailing. They looked over to see Inuyasha glaring at the kit; arms folded in his "I'm angry" pose. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened.

Miroku stood, glancing back at Sango quickly, before walking over to try and smooth everything out. She sat quiet for a moment, and then got up to help.

* * *

Yea. Blame PotC for that one little bit of fluff – you know what I'm talking about. I wanted to fill that space up with something cute, and I had just finished watching t3h spiffieness.

Also, I touched on some heavy issues this chapter. Grief and suicide, namely. I'm not 100 sure what I want to say in explanation of that, except to point out that the portrayal I have is rather skewed in this chapter (that'll iron itself out in the next few chapters, by the way). One little talk from someone isn't going to make it all better, when you're dealing with things like this. Grief and depression are serious things. If someone is considering suicide, or seems really depressed, you need to talk to them. Get them help – even if they don't want it. Do whatever you have to do to keep them alive. It's better that they're alive and angry with you than dead and emotionless. They'll forgive you, probably even thank you later.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank my sister (who probably won't ever read this ;) for the late-night plot bunny hunt. Rose – you rock. Without you, this chapter probably wouldn't exist.

Until next time!


	7. On the Defensive

Things didn't get easier.

Shippo decided that he _liked_ Green Haven, and that he wanted to stay. As one could most probably guess, this troubled Inuyasha greatly. He and the fox cub were constantly at odds – in an… 'I'm going to kill you when I catch you' sort of way. Shippou had stumbled into Green Haven for the food (and it was the predominant factor in his decision to stay) but liked the people as well. In particular, he attached himself to Satoru, who enjoyed having the mischievous little fox as a playmate. This companionship, however, make things difficult for Inuyasha. With Satoru's knowledge of the camp, and Shippo's tricks, they managed to enjoy themselves at the expense of the half demon on an almost daily basis.

The men were slow to accept Sango into the hunting party, as she was a woman and new and they didn't quite know what to make of her. Shinnosuke, also a member of the hunting party, was quietly helpful; showing her how to tilt the bow so her arrow didn't slide quite as often and teaching her fletchery. But it was still a lot of work, and she wasn't the best shot by far. She worked hard, though – a fact which nobody could deny.

When it came to hand-to-hand combat, though…

"Excuse me?" she cried. "What do you mean 'as hopeless as any other damn girl'!"

Inuyasha huffed and folded his arms.

"It means you're useless."

"I can handle myself," she protested, momentarily ignoring the insult to her gender. She was used to it.

"Mayhap against Satoru," the hanyou growled.

"Then how's about you stop insulting me and teach me?"

"I told you," he snapped. "You're _hopeless_!"

"Not entirely," Miroku interrupted as he walked into their argument. The pair looked at him, united momentarily by their annoyance at his intrusion. He put his hands up and grinned.

"Hey, just listen," he said. Sango raised an eyebrow.

"I think what Inuyasha means to say is that you know the basics, but still need a little training."

"That's not what I –" the look his partner gave him quelled the rest of his comment. The friar continued.

"I've already gotten the measure of you skills with the staff, how's about I teach you a bit more? And, of course, some hand-to-hand," he added, eyes gleaming wickedly. Sango gave him a flat look.

'There'll be hands, all right,' she thought.

"Do you not trust me, Miss Sango?" he asked.

"No."

Inuyasha laughed despite himself. This time, it wasn't only Miroku who glared at the hanyou.

"Fine, fine," the silver-haired man sighed. "I'll go."

As he walked off, Sango and Miroku sat down at the base of a nearby tree. There were lots of them, after all. It was terribly convenient.

"If that's the case then I swear not to do anything untoward," the friar told her. The young woman snorted and looked up at him, only to find that he was completely serious. She blushed, looking down. After a brief moment of thought – and another moment of trying not to wonder why his being serious made her blush more than his being charming – she sighed.

"Alright."

He smiled at her and stood up, his roguish grin returning.

"Wonderful! Let's go." He extended a hand to her. Sango looked up, startled.

"What? Now?"

"Why not?" he asked. "We've a good hour or two until supper."

"Alright," she said, taking his hand. "And you'll behave yourself."

"Of course!" he said, and then smiled slyly at her, raising one eyebrow.

"Unless you wish for me to misbehave."

She smacked him upside the head and walked towards her hut in a huff, intent on grabbing her staff. That damn pervert…

---

Their lesson began out in the woods, a bit more than a stone's throw from the camp. Miroku put his staff to the side, telling her that they'd do that later.

"Right now I want to spar you, get a feel for what level you're at," he said.

"Inuyasha already gave you an estimation of my level," she said bitterly, and he laughed.

"My dear, Inuyasha thinks _everyone _is hopeless. I myself am merely 'good enough', by his standards," the friar told her, untying his robes and laying them to the side so that he was left in the fitted breeches worn underneath.

Sango felt her face go red as she watched him stretch long limbs. The muscles in his back moved beneath his skin, and she tried terribly hard not to look. She felt a little flustered – okay, more than a little. Instead, she undid the ribbon that bound her hair, and tied the long locks into a high ponytail, preparing to defend herself.

He lunged at her – fast. Obviously he did not intend to take this slowly. She grabbed his right hand (the one he was punching with) with her left, and stepped behind him, twisting her grip as she went. Using her other hand to grab his arm just above the elbow she pushed hard, forcing him to the ground. Her knee replaced her right hand, which moved to hold him just below the shoulder.

Miroku laughed as best he could. He had hit the ground pretty hard, and his jaw ached keenly. That would be a bruise…

"That's hardly your everyday combat," he said when she released him.

You learn some interesting things when your ma travels as much as mine did," she explained quietly with a shrug. Rotating the shoulder she had pressed on, he nodded.

"Can I ask where she learned that?"

Again, she shrugged.

"Some place beyond the Holy Lands, I suppose. It's just self-defense."

"Beyond the…" Miroku's eyes went wide. Very few people even made it as far as the lands where Sesshoumaru now waged war, let alone beyond them. He shook himself.

"Do you know any normal brawling, perhaps?"

She bobbed her head.

"Yes. Just fast stuff, though."

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Fast?"

"Mostly just what hurts most when you or push the other way, where to pinch, to step. Stuff to drop someone quick-like," she lied.

She didn't need the whole world to know that she was some crazy girl who knew her way around a fistfight. Despite that she hadn't tried her best against Inuyasha, she was good. Better than she should be, actually. It was true that she didn't know much, and that she was swift and defensive with her moves, but the fact was – no matter what these men said – women weren't supposed to fight. It wasn't allowed. Even her father had told her so, and had refused point-blank to teach her anything more than she would need to know to get _out_ of a brawl.

And just knowing that much had been trouble. Kouga and Ayame were kind enough, but many of the villagers had avoided her after the incident with the blacksmith's son. Despite his cocky claims of victory, his wounds spoke volumes for her defense. After that, she stopped prying new moves out of Kouga (who had none of the reservations that most did) but hadn't stopped practicing.

Bearing all this in mind, it really was in her best interests to keep quiet. The less they knew about her skills as a fighter, the better.

Her companion smiled.

"You know a lot for a woman," he said mildly, and she stiffened.

"So?" she snapped, standing up quickly. He raised his hands, and his eyebrows – still smiling.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he said in a placating tone. Her frown deepened.

"Come on," he continued warily. "Let's continue."

"I don't think so," Sango replied shortly, letting down her hair. And she walked briskly out of the clearing, leaving a resigned – if not slightly confused – Miroku behind her.

When he had suggested that they try lessons, she had gotten so excited. To be able to fight again – not just hunting, or self-defense, but sparring! She should've remembered that even here that wouldn't be acceptable. The Friar had said it himself. She already knew a lot – for a _woman_.

She spun and slammed her fist into a tree, feeling the skin split apart and bleed. She rested her forehead against the same tree, calling herself seven kinds of idiot.

"I'm sure you've never indulged in _that _sort of stupidity," a light, female voice said from nearby, interrupting a particularly inventive curse. The stream of frustration had spilled out of her mouth without Sango even realizing it. She looked up to see Arashi. One hand rested on the dark-haired woman's hip; the other hung by her side, holding a long wooden spoon.

"I came to get you two for dinner," she said mildly. "Where's Miroku?"

Sango waved absently in the direction of the clearing, letting her head hit the tree again. And again. And again – until Arashi reached out a hand and stopped her.

"Why don't you let Umao bandage that," she suggested. "And after dinner, you can tell us what happened."

The other woman nodded weakly, still annoyed with herself. Arashi smiled.

"Come on, it's everyone's favourite. Potato and leek."

"Yaay," Sango replied dryly. "My heart may just stop from excitement."

They both laughed, and walked back to Green Haven.

---

Miroku made it back to the camp just in time for dinner. Kikyou – whose residence was becoming almost permanent – had said grace in his stead, but that didn't explain the withering stare coming from Inuyasha. Nor did it explain the bandage around Sango's hand. How had she done that? He didn't get a chance to ask, because the moment dinner was finished, Inuyasha grabbed his arm (incidentally, the same arm still sore from Sango's…demonstration) and dragged him off to their hut.

"I shoulda known," the half-demon scoffed when they got inside. Miroku looked at him, bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be stupid. I knew you were a letch, but what the hell did you do to make her bloody up her hand like that!" he growled.

"That wasn't me!" The Friar protested.

"Then what happened t'yer face? You can't say they ain't related!"

"I gave my word, didn't I?" Miroku retorted, realizing that – true to form – Inuyasha had misconstrued everything. His companion rolled his eyes.

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know what she did to her hand, but she gave me this right off the bat," he said, pointing to his jaw where it twinged – that had to be where the bruise was forming.

"So y'did do something!"

"No!"

Miroku threw up his hands in exasperation. "Why are you so bothered, anyhow?"

The half-demon sat down.

"She an' I are in the same boat, almost, y'know? I feel for her. She's still raw from all o' _that_," he bobbed his head towards the east, where the remains of Doncaster lay, "an' she'll wanna hide. So we need to keep an eye on her."

Miroku raised an eyebrow at this sudden, insightful, side of his friend. This wasn't the half-demon speaking. This was Kikyou, asking Inuyasha to keep an eye out for Sango. So he explained about the sparring, and her clipped farewell.

"She's better than she's letting on," he finished, and Inuyasha nodded.

"I know. What're you going to do?"

"Wait for her to come around. I just wish I knew why she was upset…"

In a hut not far from Miroku's, Sango took a deep sip of her tea as she finished explaining what had happened, and (hesitantly) why. Umao refilled the chipped mug she drank from, as well as Kagome's (the handmaid had come to help Umao with the more detailed work of picking splinters out of Sango's hand, and had then insisted on finding out just why she had done 'something so silly' to her own hand).

"I can understand why you might feel that way," she said kindly, "but things work a little differently around here."

"Yes, we still cook, but that's not all we do. We can all fight, to some degree," Arashi put in. Sango stared at them in wide-eyed shock.

"But…Inuyasha said…"

The women before her laughed. Kagome shook her head, bemused.

"Haven't you been told? Inuyasha thinks –"

"– Everyone's hopeless," Sango chorused along, and laughed. "Yes, I've heard. I just didn't think…"

"We understand," Arashi told her. "But trust us, you'll get over it."

"Especially working with Miroku," Umao put in wickedly, and she and Arashi both laughed.

Later that night, Sango lay on her pallet, wondering what they had meant. Certainly, he was handsome enough, but she was forever off-balance with him. What bothered her more than that, however, was the fact that she minded less and less the idea of making good on their wager.

---

Aaugh…This chapter took a ridiculous amount of time. I might just cheat and condense the next two chapters into one so that I don't have to write another like this. I do NOT like fight scenes – that was an Aikido move in here, by the way, for those of you who don't know. Supposedly it's non-violent, but it sure as hell didn't _feel_ non-violent the first time I got laid out. So all I really wanna do is apologize for the amount of time you all had to wait for this chapter, and for the fact that when it finally came out, it sucked. And for any typos etc. - I decided that because I had just saddled my BETA with TRL and SK, I wasn't gonna make her BETA this damn thing as well, since she has her own shtuff to take care of. So K-chan, happy BETA's-Day-Off...or...something.

Oh! And Aamalie-chan?

I'll take that chapter of D, now, please. X3 I believe you promised me a bribe of that sort for when I finished this chapter…


	8. Thief

Sango's lessons with Miroku continued (due to much prodding by her bunk-mate and Kagome), and while she absolutely refused to show him the extent of her knowledge, her pride would not allow her to be dumped on her behind. It was an awkward balance, between winning and losing everything.

Unfortunately, that wasn't all that was wrong. Tensions were growing in Green Haven, and everyone was the worse for it. Inuyasha grew even more irritable, snapping at all who came near him – even Kikyou. She, however, snapped right back at him, though that only made it worse. Arashi had burnt several meals in the past fortnight, which concerned Sango greatly (when she was there to be concerned).

Between the hunting party and her lessons with Miroku, she hardly had a moment to spare. Shinnosuke was strained, he smiled little and laughed less – this was the norm for all in the party. Most of the meat they brought back was smoked and stored for later. Trips to the villages were rare, and many men brought their families into the woods to stay. This only caused further distress, because the fewer families that were in the villages, the fewer contacts they had (and the more mouths to feed). Eventually Nazuna, a young woman who worked as a waitress in one of the local pubs, was the only contact they had left.

Everyone was looking over their shoulders, and sentries no longer went out alone. This would have been understandable except that it wasn't. No one was saying anything, (at least not to her). That worried her more than anything. When she asked Umeko about it, the young woman just laughed awkwardly and went back to weaving bandages (another bad sign in and of itself). All in all, Sango was sick of it – especially the not knowing. So not quite a sennight later, when Kikyou returned to Green Haven, she marched out of her own hut and into Miroku and Inuyasha's shared one. Kikyou and Kagome were also present, and all four of them were seated around the tiny wooden table when Sango burst in. Miroku stood, and smiled.

"Is something wrong?" he asked carefully. Her face was stern, more so than was usual for the introverted young woman.

"Obviously," she said. "It's pretty hard to miss, with everyone flinching about, and I want to know what it is!"

"What makes you think you need to know?" Inuyasha snapped. Kikyou placed a hand on his arm, and the growl in his throat died out. She looked at Sango oddly, as if sizing her up.

"I live here," Sango replied curtly. "And it's difficult to fight an enemy you don't know. Unless I, too, am considered a threat, then I think I deserve at least that knowledge. And if I am an enemy, then –"

Miroku stepped forward, placing himself between the half demon and the frustrated young woman.

"You are no enemy," he told her. "Walk with me?"

The Friar spoke as they walked out of Green Haven (staffs in hand) and into the woods.

"You know already of Inuyasha's past. But it is my past- the past I share with him – that is of greatest concern right now. I met him the day his mother died, after he had been chased through these woods to my home. I offered him sanctuary, being the madman that I was. I was no more than fifteen," he added absently. "Hardly old enough to call myself a man, let alone make a decision like that. But I did nonetheless. That was for years ago."

_'He's a full nineteen, then,'_ Sango thought mildly, reflecting that she was, herself, nearly seventeen. Miroku continued, and she continued to listen.

"However, that is not our problem. Sango, may I ask you something – a clueless man's question to a woman?"

"I suppose…" she agreed warily, waiting for him to say something lecherous. She'd smack him, when he did.

"Would you say that, as a whole, the clothing of our inhabitants is well made? A fair fabric, with fair stitches?"

Raising her eyebrows in surprise, Sango thought for a moment.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Very well. And the other day, when we got all of that rain, did the roof of your hut hold up?"

"Yes…"

"And what about tools? Not jut for building, but for cooking and healing as well. Are we doing all right?"

"Yes, yes," she replied, now very lost. He smiled.

"Where do you suppose we get the money for all of this?"

They walked in silence for a few moments, before she admitted to being stumped. He smiled even wider.

"Follow me."

---

They ventured deeper into the woods, closer to the long trail that wound through the Sherwood Forest. It was a quick shimmy up a tree, and then they settled down on a pair of sturdy branches to wait for…something.

"What're we doing?" she asked quetly, and he put a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to look to the road.

"There are a great many fat, rich lords in Nottinghamshire, Sango. And also a great many people who can hardly afford to eat every day. It's a wide margin, with very few in between. What we look to do is rectify this."

As he spoke a huge man, dressed finely, trotted up the trail on a solid looking dun mare. He was old, almost thirty, but his blue eyes were sharp.

Not sharp enough, however, to note the red shimmer in the bushes.

Inuyasha was on the trail in a flash, sword drawn, a fierce scowl etched into his features. The mare shied away from him, and the obese man cried out, trying and failing to steady the horse. He fell, and the beast rushed into the trees. Miroku hopped down from the tree to catch and calm her.

Meanwhile, Sango's eyes were locked on the show beneath her. Shinnosuke, followed by a number of other men, strolled out of the bushes with a smile.

"Good day to you, sir," he said politely. "I do believe that it's much to warm out for you to be covered in such finery. Let us help you."

He stepped forward, but the hapless noble simply slapped at him and swore. Another young man, whom Sango recognized as Shikako, shook his head.

"Come on, mate. Either we help you, or Inuyasha 'ere helps you. We're nicer than him, trust me."

Inuyasha stepped forward, sword at the ready. The victim paled, and nodded rapidly.

"Aye, I'll comply."

"That's what we thought," Shinnosuke said. And with that, he, Shikako, and the other men divvied up all that he had, save for his breeches. Miroku appeared back in the tree, and the now disgruntled man looked into the woods to see his horse – now adored with only a saddle, blanket, and bridle – step out. She was still unsure of Inuyasha, but the hanyou sheathed his sword, and stepped out of the way.

"Off with you then," he snapped. The group melted back into the forest.

"Toss it, Friar!" a voice called.

"Beneath us!" he shouted back. Someone muttered 'us?', but obviously wasn't too concerned, because he simply took the bags and left.

"You see, now?" Miroku asked. Sango looked at him in awe.

"You…you're thieves?"

"We've been over this, my dear Sango. There are an uncountable number of thieves living at Green Haven. Also, two murderers, four deserters, and six – no, seven now – tax dodgers. We can make no living as honest men, so as you can see, we do it dishonestly."

She raised an eyebrow.

"This is how you can afford your lovely fabrics, I take it?"

He nodded.

"If it makes you feel better, we only keep a third of it. The rest goes to villagers, to help them pay their taxes." Miroku jumped out of the tree, and held up his arms.

"Now, to me!"

She shot him a withering look, and went to slip out of the foliage herself – and slip, she did. Fate, being the cruel, vindictive bitch that she is, sent the young woman straight into the Friar's waiting arms. Sango flushed as he helped her to her feet, but did not release her. His hands settled at the small of her back, and his eyes settled on hers.

Her blush deepened at the intensity of his gaze. He was looking through her, tearing through the brambles and nettles around her and staring at the raw nerves inside. She braced her hands against his chest to push away, and hesitated. Sudden memory of their wager flooded her, and she went cold. Then warmth sprouted in her chest, and she wasn't sure she wanted to make him let go. His look was overwhelming her. It was beyond the colour of his eyes. It was the feeling that fueled him, and she didn't quite understand what it did to her (or even what it really was). She wasn't sure if it was a terror or a thrill, but she didn't get time to decide. He leaned down, and her eyes went wide.

"So this is what you meant by 'us', is it? I shoulda known."

Miroku stopped, barely an inch from her lips, and she remembered herself. She pushed against him, and stepped away fast. She didn't recognize the speaker, a demon who looked…sort of like a squirrel? Or maybe a dog…

"Hachi!" the Friar cried with a forced smile. "Why'd you come back – forget something?"

Hachi shook his head.

"I dropped off those bags, and was on my way to speak to Nazuna when I heard your voice, Friar. I thought I'd come see what you were up to. My apologies for interrupting."

Sango's blush, which had barely faded, flared again.

"It was nothing!" she cried. "I should go help Arashi with supper."

She hurried off, wanting to be as far away from Miroku and this unsettling new feeling as she could possibly be. It was a terror, for sure, not a thrill. She had heard that kisses were bare nothings, hardly worth a thought – but that hadn't felt like nothing. It felt more like toomuchtoofasttoogood. She shouldn't have let go like that. He probably thought she was some kind of tramp now…Her inner monologue running at full throttle, she missed the sounds of a squirrel/dog/thing in pain.

---

"Sango! Wait!" he cried. She glanced back at him, and then looked away. Nevertheless, she stopped moving. He caught up with her fairly quickly, and stopped her when she made to start again towards camp.

"We can talk here." he said gently. Sango sat down on a rock, and he set down beside her. He failed to notice – or ignored – her still present blush (though it was quite faint now), but didn't miss her little scooch away from him. Miroku sighed, feeling like a cad.

"I –" he started. "Look, I don't want to hurt you."

His voice was firm, even if he didn't feel it. He felt like such a brute, now. Everything about her behaviour had been egging him on, but all of a sudden…this. She hadn't even slapped him, which was even more puzzling. If she had slapped him, he wouldn't be so confused. But she hadn't, and he didn't know what that meant.

Sango didn't understand either, but there was another thing he didn't know. So he kept on, trying to fix whatever he had done. Or was it what he hadn't done? Should he have kissed her despite of Hachi? No, somehow he knew that wasn't it.

"There's no pressure. If you want to forget the whole wager, we can, Sango."

She stiffened. He thought that little of her? She had her honour, and a wager was a wager. Keeping her voice steady, she stood and answered.

"No. I will pay my debt, just…" she faltered, pausing, "just not now."

And for the second time in less than a full moon's turn, she ran away from him. Away from herself.

She found Kagome quickly when she reached camp, and pulled her aside. The young woman had a small hut near the main one, which she shared with Kikyou when they were here. With much mumbling and fussing and beating around the bush, she told the younger woman what had happened. She would have gone to Umeko or Arashi, but they thought so little of this! When she finally got the whole story out, Kagome rubbed her friend's back.

"You're all right, Sango. There are worse men to fancy, for certain."

"Pardon?"

Kagome smiled.

"He's a decent man. Though, I have to admit, this is a tad out of character for him…" she said with a little frown. "But nonetheless, he doesn't hit his women, and if you've told him none I can promise he'll leave you be. I can understand why you might fall for him."

"I've probably just caught a cold," Sango told the girl firmly. "Or it was a head rush from falling out of the tree. I certainly don't fancy the Friar."

And then she deftly changed the subject, telling herself all the while that Kagome was most certainly wrong. They talked late into the night, long after Kikyou returned. Late enough, that is, that Sango tossed some straw into the corner and slept there that night, rather than waking Umeko with her return. Even the Lady stayed awake, though she didn't speak much with them. Mostly, she listened. Sango was glad for the company – it helped her ignore the nagging voice that told her Kagome was right.

Yet when the false dawn rose, and she returned from the privy, she saw Miroku leave her hut. Umeko stood at the doorway, her robe held closed with one hand. Both looked pleased.

Bile rose in her throat, and she could ignore the voice no longer.

---

Well, that was fun. I honestly hadn't planned this chapter this way. In fact, all the stuff I had planned for this chapter will have to go to the next one. This story is just running with me, now. And I have to thank Rae, who is currently my new BETA. All of my chapters and stories, whether I say so or not, are dedicated to two people, Rose and Kitty, but Rae has taken on the immense challenge or tearing apart everything I write, and putting it back together into something good. Kitty used to do this, but we decided it would be better if someone who didn't mind ripping my work apart would be best. So let's all thank Rae for giving this a try!

And speaking of dedications, this chapter is for Aamalie-chan. My dear, if you cannot get the chapter of D from Corisu, then OA is more than fine X3

But until then, two can play at the bribery game. Here's my proposition: I'll hold off Miroku and Sango's kiss until D (or OA) is updated.

So please? Because you luffle me? And this update didn't take months? -puppy face-


	9. Tactical Errors

Sango passed through the next few days in a fog, replaying the moment over and over in her mind. Was there some way that it wasn't as she thought it was? No, Umeko's laundry of the day after was testament to that. Part of her reminded her that she hadn't anything to say about it - she had no claim. And it was true; after all she hadn't wanted it. She had pushed it away with both hands.

The fact that no one noticed this inner trouble was a source of wry pride for her. After all, this wasn't something she wanted questions to be asked about, but at the same time, she wondered if perhaps this was a bad thing, that no one could read her. Or…almost nobody, anyway.

Kagome folded her arms and leaned against the tree in a way that reminded Sango strongly of Inuyasha.

"What's wrong?" the young maid - who had struck up a fast friendship with the hunter's daughter - asked in quietly firm tones. Sango shrugged, turning back to the laundry she was scrubbing in the river.

"It's nothing," she lied. "I'm tired from staff practice."

Kagome sighed.

"Sango, there's _something_ wrong, I know it. And it's not just tiredness - we're _all_ tired."

The older girl sat up and looked squarely at her friend.

"I'm not used to all of the strain, what with the practice on the staff, and learning knives and archery both. It's tiring."

Kagome shook her head, but said nothing. She glanced back towards the camp, suddenly remembering something, and gave a little shiver. Determined not to think about it, she began collecting up the sodden clothing to be run through the wringer and hung up to dry.

A little while later, the clothes wrung and now pinned to a long string in the middle of their camp, Sango parted with Kagome (who looked a tad nervous, Sango noted. She hoped she hadn't done anything to offend her) and went on to her practice, quickly grabbing her staff from the hut before she went. Two near-smooth grooves were cut into the wood, where a smiling Miroku had cut them so she could see where her hands fit.

"If you let them slip, you'll get your fingers banged - and smacking the hands of your opponent, is, by the way, the fastest way to get them to drop their weapon."

She had nodded, running her hands across the wood and into the grooves. Unfortunately, they didn't work with polished wood, and a splinter from the fresh groove had caught her finger. Blood welled up in the wound, and she cringed, popping the digit into her mouth. He had tugged on her hand, asking to see the splinter. His hands, rough and callused, had been firm when he pulled the sliver of wood from her finger, but he had lingered just a moment too long when the job was done. The blood, which had a moment ago rushed to her finger, had rushed to her face as he tied a little corner of his robes around her finger to stem the flow until practice was done.

He had acted as if it was nothing, but it wasn't nothing to her. Moments like those were slowly undoing her, driving her mad in ways that she didn't quite understand.

Pushing the thought from her mind, she rotated her shoulder and made for the clearing where they practiced.

She walked into the field, and was met with a sudden attack. Her staff was up in a flash, and she blocked the shot to her collarbone deftly. The talk with Kagome, and her own internal problems making her irritable, she returned the shot in kind, making for his knees. The attack was barely blocked - while Miroku may have been testing her reflexes, Sango had nearly a sennight's worth of frustration with herself fuelling her movement.

She attacked again, moving to a high blow, then another, followed by a shot to his ribs that connected through her fervor. He gave a grunt, his staff chiming in the air as he replied to her blows, feeling somewhat confused.

He'd known that there was much she wasn't telling him, a few tricks with archery, with the knife that perhaps she'd known already, but with the staff, she'd been untried. Raw. Still learning. Maybe she was paying attention to what he had said after all. This was an aptitude she'd not shown before, and he was both pleased and perturbed to see it.

Forgetting to mind her hands, she slid a little out, and he rapped her knuckles. She smiled oddly, somehow relieved by the sharp sting that the wood had caused her. She stepped forward, sliding her hands back into the grooves and locking her staff against his. He pressed his staff against hers, intending to use the same trick he had ages ago - nearly a full season, now - to topple her and win. But she had nearly a full season's knowledge now, and she let him push her over, bringing her feet up to flip him over her head - a favourite trick - and pin him.

Unfortunately, she forgot to account for his staff this time around, and he cracked the wood against her own weapon, forcing her to stand. He leapt up as well, and she made a face. It was so well done it was almost disgusting. He smiled, and attacked again.

They continued like this until the sun had reached the tops of the trees, when before it had been high in the sky. Every time Sango thought she was near a victory, he wriggled out of it somehow, until she was ready to throttle him.

She brought her staff down, intent on smacking his collarbone hard, and he blocked her once again. Struck suddenly with a mildly ironic idea, she locked his staff with hers and pushed the way he did. It worked - he lost his balance, and stumbled. She swung the butt of her staff up, knocking his own weapon from his hands, and gently pressed the side of the wood against his neck.

"Yield," Sango said, panting for breath. He smiled, and raised his hands - he too was exhausted.

"Well met, Sango," he said when she put her staff against a tree and grabbed a flask from beside the rock, draining part of it into her mouth, and the rest over her head. Miroku only sipped from his, not feeling the heat the way Sango did with her long hair. Strands of it stuck to her face, and her cheeks were pink with exertion. He looked at her with a softness he hadn't felt in a long time, but she was unawares, busy wringing out her hair and tying it back again, without messy locks in her face.

He looked at the sky, and was surprised.

"I think that's it for the day, actually, it's pretty late."

"I doubt I could do much anyhow," she agreed, picking her staff up once more, waiting for him to be ready. He pulled his overrobe over his head, tied it to his under robe, grabbed his staff, and they began to walk.

As soon as they saw the flurry through the trees, that walk became a run. They came upon the camp, and were shocked. Everyone was busy, treating the wounded. Nearly half of those who had been sent out in a hunting party earlier that day were being treated for troublesome-looking wounds, some were helping, their wounds mere grazes, but at least six, or maybe eight, were nowhere to be seen. That could be explained, though, by the activity, Sango thought. It doesn't mean they're…

What had they missed in the hours they'd been gone?

Miroku touched her arm, and she looked at him. His blue eyes flashed with anger, but somehow, she understood it was not her he was cross with. It was something in his touch, in the way the anger was held just above something else…

"I must find Inuyasha," he said. "He'll know what has happened here."

She nodded, intent on finding someone herself. Why had Kagome looked so nervous earlier? Suddenly, it was vital that she knew. She found the girl not too long after, bringing fresh water to Wakana, who was cleaning Shinnosuke's wounds. He was burned and scored in odd patterns, all of it looking painful.

"Kagome," Sango called, and the girl looked up. Gently, she touched Wakana's arm, a quick, mutual exchange in French (which confused the hunter's daughter, who had spoken only Saxon since the day she was born), and Kagome stood.

"I know," she sighed as they entered Umao and Arashi's hut to get fresh bandages. Sango had, quite bluntly, asked if she knew anything when she pulled her away from Wakana.

"My Lady had suggested…I thought perhaps she was wrong. Now I see that I was the one mistaken."

The older girl caught her arm, and looked her in the eye.

"Kagome. What's happened?"

"That's easy enough to understand," a gruff male voice said from the entrance. Both women turned to see Inuyasha and Miroku, both looking very tired. "Abi's birds have been to visit."

"A…bi?" Sango sounded out, confused. Miroku gestured for her to sit.

"Kagome, if you would be so kind as to bring those bandages out. We can explain."

"You'd better," Sango growled, folding her arms as she sat. She was getting rather tired of not knowing these things until it was too late to do anything.

"I tried to tell you a while ago, Sango, but we got…distracted," Miroku said, and she had a flash vision of the robbery, and the mismatched beginning to his speech.

"We're hunted men, you know that," Inuyasha interjected. "I don't think you need to know much more than that means we have enemies."

"Like hell!" she cried, leaping up. "Enemies who send demon birds after you, who apparently - judging by what I've seen - spit fire! I think that's something that might be nice to have forewarning about!"

"You're right," Miroku said, sending Inuyasha a look that clearly said 'shut up'.

"Not terribly long ago, a few years back, I suppose, we found out about the bounty on our heads. Never mind that I'm a priest -"

"Friar," the half-demon interjected. Miroku went on as if he hadn't heard.

"- and was only giving sanctuary. Nonetheless, we were unconcerned. We stayed away from those who would turn us in, and made do with the contacts I had in town. Things were…okay. And then Arashi came. She was running, like us, from Hakudoshi. She had killed one of his men, who'd tried to take liberties she wasn't willing to give. We let her stay. Several others followed, their families with them. Shinnosuke, who was actually seeking his paramour - we collected Wakana from her father not long after that. Nazuna came with Umeko, they're sisters you know. They had a thieving act going, and got caught out. Umao brought Satoru - only three, then, as they ran from land taxes they couldn't pay. There are lots of stories like these, Sango. We gave shelter to them all. Eventually, we had Green Haven. The thieving didn't start until about a year ago, when taxes went up to more than double what they'd been before - which is much, even for Nottinghamshire.

"And then Yura came. Yura, and her two cohorts, one whose name was Tsubaki and another young woman whose name we never knew. They were after our bounty, and made life difficult for us for awhile. It was from them, though, that we gleaned a very important bit of information. Hakudoshi was cross enough with us that he has paid a certain bandit - the sort who does not stick to the Thieves Code as we do - handsomely, with clemency and land, to kill us both. Well, we finished with them not long after we met you, Sango," here he paused to smile charmingly, taking the edge off of what he said (it worked, she went pink), "but that was not the end of it.

"We had thought that perhaps it was one of them who was paid - specifically, Yura. But it wasn't. Another young woman, another demon (yes, Yura was a demon of the nastiest sort) was the one who Hakudoshi had paid so well. It was only just last night, however, from Lady Kikyou, that we learned her name. She goes by the title 'Princess Abi' and wields an army of wicked birds. They don't spit fire, though, no, that would be too easy. They _are _fires. They can burst into flame at a moment's notice, striking with sharp talons and wicked beaks. Kikyou also mentioned she might be coming to visit one of these days, and to keep an eye out.

"Unfortunately, in our infinite wisdom, we did not deem it necessary to worry about immediately. We did not expect her to strike so soon."

He finished abruptly, watching her face for signs of a reaction - any reaction. She frowned, clearly worried.

"Not only that, but the bitch bore a message for us as well. For me," Inuyasha spat. "There's to be a tournament in a week's time, in archery. It's more than likely a trap."

"It's most certainly a trap," Kikyou said, striding into the slowly crowding hut. "But that's not our concern. We do not need the winner's purse badly enough to risk it."

"It's not just a trap," the half-demon growled, turning to look at her. "It's a challenge. To me. I can't not meet that!"

"Actually, it's very easy for you not to," the Lady replied, and Sango was surprised to hear an edge to her normally cool voice. Miroku leaned down to whisper to her.

"I don't think we'll be wanting to stay for this," he suggested quietly, his voice gliding along warm air that tickled her ear and made her shiver agreeably. They sidestepped the arguing couple, and walked out into the considerably calmer night air. Dinner had been forgotten in the earlier foray, so many were seated around the stew pot, having a quick bite.

"What's the damage?" Sango asked carefully.

"Twelve dead, in all. Mostly wounded, though we'll probably lose a number of them as well," he said, his voice hard. "We have to go into town soon."

"To…"

"To tell Kirei that Shikako won't be coming home."

Sango put her hands to her mouth. She hadn't known Kirei very well, only having met Shikako's fiancée once, but she knew that this would be a devastating blow. And she had known Shikako. She had _liked _him. He was funny, always doing something stupid to get one of the cooks mad at him. She stopped walking for a minute.

"Who…who else," she asked quietly.

He listed off the other 11 victims, and her heart fell a little bit more with every one. Some of the names were familiar to her, some of them not. Aizawa had challenged her to a wrestling match when she first joined the hunting team, and she had beaten him properly, his brother had sat to the side and laughed. Yusuke had helped her wrap the hilt of her knife, and had given her a proper sheath for it in exchange for the eardrops she picked up in the market for his wife. Kimihiro had exploded into a (apparently common) fury when she informed him that his fishing net could no longer be 'patched up one more time', and then offered to teach her how to use the new one.

These people were her friends. She'd hunted with them - today hadn't been her round, though. She'd supped with them, laughed with them, hell, even fought with them a time or two. But to see them come to an end such as this…

Miroku put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against him, forgetting to be nervous. Death seemed to follow her, and she was getting sick of it.

"There's more to Princess Abi's message," he said huskily. She looked up at him with haunted eyes, and more than anything at that moment he wanted to forget the rest of the message and kiss her until the laughter returned to her expression. But he couldn't do that - she'd made it perfectly clear that that sort of comfort was not what she wanted. And so the moment passed, and he told her.

"Prince Naraku has requested that either myself or Inuyasha speak with him, two nights hence. Inuyasha won't go, he's got enough on his hands with Princess Abi and Hakudoshi's tournament."

"And Lady Kikyou," Sango sighed with a wry smile, stepping away from Miroku. He let her go, watching the movement and hating every word he spoke.

"And Lady Kikyou," he said with a smile. "I leave tomorrow, to make it all the way up to the castle."

She said nothing, only looked down. He, however, never took his eyes off her. Sango, feeling very confused, simply stood there, reeling from the knowledge that he would leave the next morning, that many of their friends were dead, that Naraku would most likely kill him…

"Miroku! Sango!" Kagome ran up to them, her face drawn and pale. "We've no more bandages, and still many dressings to change."

Miroku looked at her, feeling as if he had awoken from a dream, and nodded.

"There are spare linens in my hut, I'll be there shortly."

She nodded, and ran off. The Friar looked back at Sango, who met his gaze tiredly.

"I believe I will retire, now. It's late, and it's been a long day. Goodnight, Friar," she said in that quiet voice he knew meant that she would most likely not sleep that night. However, she did, though her dreams were plagued by warped memories of people she'd never see again…

---

"Friar!" she called, running over to him. He looked at her, and smiled. He had been somewhat concerned the night before, but she seemed better that morning. Her jaw was set in the usual, stubborn way, and she seemed much more…lively than she had last night. It was good to see she was back to her old self, at least on the surface.

"Come to see me off? How kind…"

She ignored his silliness, opting for a more direct approach. There was nothing to it, but this one, last attempt to stop him. Maybe it was because of Shikako and the other 11 who had died, but she wasn't about to let him march off to his death without at least trying.

Trying what, however, she wasn't so sure of.

"You're really going then?"

He nodded, still smiling. Sango paled, and her eyes widened. If he left, chances were he wouldn't come back. Few called to visit directly with Naraku returned whole and hale. She protested, telling him so.

"I know," Miroku replied grimly. "But it's better me than Inuyasha. Naraku may think twice about striking a man of the cloth, but not a half demon."

"And besides," he joked, "I'm just a lecherous Friar. I won't be missed as badly."

"That's not true!" she cried. "If you get yourself killed, I –"

Sango stopped, turning pink. Whatever she was trying to do, she was succeeding in making a fool of herself. He looked at her, a funny sort of smile on his face, but before either of them could speak, Kikyou called to him.

"Miroku! We've not long before the boat arrives."

He shouted back an affirmative, and placed a hand on Sango's shoulder.

"I'll return," he promised.

"You'd better," she warned, and before she could think twice about it, she darted in and gave him a peck on the lips.

Her blush was brilliant now, and she turned away – though she took barely two steps before Miroku grabbed her wrist, tilted her chin up, and pressed his lips to hers. Warmth (and shock) flooded Sango's body. She leaned into the kiss briefly, and then they broke apart.

"I'll die happy," he murmured, running his fingers gently through her hair. Still pink, she grabbed his hand and looked up at him. She'd worry about the ramifications of kissing him (had she, really? It felt so strange, but somehow right) later.

"If you do die, I swear, I'll…"

"Miroku! Today, if you don't mind."

He looked softly at her, his voice teasing.

"You know, it'll be much more useful to think about what to do when I come back alive."

With a final wink, he departed, and Sango was suddenly aware of the fact that everyone's eyes were on her. Miroku did not have such problems, though what he went to face was far more worrisome.

He sat quietly in the boat, next to Kikyou, his hood drawn up to hide his face. Neither of them spoke, for fear of their identities being discovered. She could not afford to be associated with them. The silence gave him time to think about Sango. About that kiss, yes, but mostly about the night before, and the dark look she had.

It was only recently that she had begun to gain a lively attitude. She was still quiet, and surly, and a little difficult to understand, but there had been something lighter about how she'd carried herself, compared to the weight on her shoulders when she first arrived. Seeing her with that darkened expression now, though, he understood why Inuyasha wanted so badly to clear his name. For Kikyou, he'd growled, which Miroku had thought foolish at that time, but now he understood a little better. It was about what they deserved. Kikyou deserved a lover who she could legitimize, and Sango…

Sango deserved a life full of laughter. Full of life itself, and light, after struggling through the dark. It was this thought, and it's companions, that kept Miroku occupied during the long way to Naraku's palace.


	10. Preparations

It was quiet that day, more or less. A soft wind carried the last of the autumn leaves from their branches, and brought in the first chill of winter. The frost would come soon, they knew, and then the snow. The refugees of Green Haven milled about, working at a casual pace. At least…until he arrived.

Sango very nearly didn't recognize him - his clothing was different from the norm, and his hair was unbound. It wasn't until she saw his eyes that she knew who it was. The next thing she knew was that things had gone terribly wrong. His hand was bound up in strips torn from his robes, but he'd bled through those somewhat. His appearance overall was quite haggard, his hair matted with dirt and blood, his clothes rumpled and stained and thick stubble growing across his jaw. He'd been gone a long while. His staff was slung over his back, but she could see the damage - the chips, the scratches, the blood. It was how she knew all was not well - there was so much blood, and everywhere.

She stood quickly and ran over to him, calling to Arashi and Wakana.

"Bandages, quickly. Arashi - please get the poultices and some water. And get Shinnosuke to take a group out into the woods, they'll need to have a look for soldiers."

Slipping his arm over her shoulder, she helped him over to a log, and he sat with a grimace. She couldn't help but notice his hand, and the unnatural curl of the fingers.

"Friar, let me see," she ordered softly, and he smiled shakily, reaching out gently, palm up, to place his hand in hers. Gently, cautiously - lest she tug at the scabs - she peeled back some of the strips of fabric.

"Inuyasha!" she called shakily, and the half-demon stuck his head out of the hut. The moment he saw Miroku, he was there, looking between the two of them and demanding to know what was going on.

"Get Kaede, quickly," was all she said. Miroku's face was lined with pain, and he looked old, too old.

"And whiskey," she added. Inuyasha nodded, for once shutting his mouth, and went to do as he was bid. They had come to an understanding in the month or so since Miroku had left - no questions, no answers, no problem. It worked, for the most part, and they had almost had a decent conversation a few days before.

Arashi and Wakana returned with the supplies, and Sango finished stripping the bandages from his hand. He hissed in pain, and she looked at him gently.

"It's going to hurt worse soon. I have to clean it, and pull fibers from the cut. After that, we wait for Kaede."

He nodded mutely, watching grimly as she worked. It was not long before Sango could see with horrifying clarity what had happened.

Someone had taken a sharp knife, and in one smooth, deliberate slice severed all of the tendons in his right hand. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Naraku's handiwork.

"What happened?" she asked, as she smeared a healing salve over the wounds and began to wrap them as best she could. It was an awkward cut, made across the inside of the hand, where the fingers met the palm.

"I overestimated Prince Naraku's morals," he said with a foolish (and pained) smile. "He has no objection to striking a man of the cloth."

"Friar…" she began, meaning to remind him that that was not what she meant. However, the sudden appearance of Kaede cut her off, and she turned him over to the old woman, who knew better the ways of wounds. Inuyasha handed her the whiskey, but she brushed it off.

"I'll not be using any of that," she said, and (with a surprising amount of ease) looped an arm under his shoulders and helped him into the hut.

"Kikyou was bringing her anyway," Inuyasha said. Sango nodded - it made sense. Kaede was Kikyou's old nursemaid, after all.

"Will she tell us what has happened this past month?"

The half-demon shook his head.

"She don't know. Whatever went on at that meeting went on without her - she wouldn't even 'ave known it happened if the soldier who threw Miroku from the castle hadn't informed her of it."

Sango looked into the trees, frowning. This…wasn't the way Prince Naraku did things, not that she had heard. He killed or kept, (according to Kagome) but that was it. To debilitate Miroku like this and then send him back to them was not how it was supposed to be done. Something felt wrong with this.

"Oi," Inuyasha called, and she turned just in time to catch a staff.

"Stop moping and fight me," he said. She turned and readied herself for his attack.

---

It was several hours later when Kaede walked out of Miroku's hut, looking worn-out and concerned.

"It's a foul wound, made perhaps a sennight ago and healing poorly. There's not much chance he'll ever use that hand again," she informed them when they stopped fighting and asked. Inuyasha frowned, looking as if he'd have liked to yell at the old woman, but thought better of it after a moment and simply walked into the hut. Sango distracted herself from worry, asking Kaede what herbs would be used, how often bandages would be changed, if any exercises would be necessary. She put all of her mind into what she was being told, making certain that not a word of it would leave her. The old woman answered her questions in detail, glad to know that someone else would be capable of taking care of the injured Friar.

The sun had set by the time Inuyasha finished in the hut, and gestured for Sango to enter. She did so nervously, unsure of the Friar's current state. What she saw both relieved and disturbed her - he lay on his cot, head propped up on a straw-stuffed wheat sack, staring quietly at his hand.

"Friar?" she called. He looked over, and his face broke into a smile. He still looked to be in a fair amount of pain - tired, too. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, until he heard her call.

"Well met, my darling. You're certainly a sight for sore eyes."

She rolled her own eyes, and knelt next to him.

"If it's your eyes that hurt, then I cringe at the thought of what the rest of you must feel like."

He laughed, and grimaced at the pain. Sango raised an eyebrow worriedly, and placed a hand on his arm. It wasn't a conscious movement, but Miroku noted it with a smile and reached up with his uninjured hand to cup her cheek.

"I told you I'd come back alive," he reminded her, and she blushed.

"I'm…glad that you did."

His eyes met hers for a moment, and he brushed her bottom lip gently with his thumb. She stiffened, looking away - he sighed and let his hand drop.

"How have things been while I was away visiting our benevolent lord and master?"

She scoffed. "Things've been fine. Abi's not been by, and Inuyasha's led good raids. Speaking of which…did he talk about the tournament at all while he was in here?"

Miroku shook his head, and she continued.

"Well, we're keeping an eye on him. He and Kagome actually had a row over it - he tried to leave for the early tournaments, and she stopped him. Kikyou would've been proud. There's deer meat stretching behind the rocks, we've done quite well. Oh! Wakana's little ones have learned to crawl - they're into everything! Actually, about a fortnight or so ago…"

She regaled him with the tales of Kimiharu and Hatsu's adventures around camp until Arashi came to bring them supper. By then, Miroku was actually sitting upright, and she had shifted herself from kneeling at the side of the cot, to sitting at the end of it.

"So," she asked, as they began to work away at the stew. "Do you plan to tell me what happened, or shall I go find Inuyasha?"

He looked at his bowl with dark eyes for a moment, and Sango cursed herself for being so tactless. After a moment, though, he looked at her quietly, something warm filling his eyes - she felt a similar warmth curl in the pit of her stomach at his look. Before she could wonder what to do, though, he looked past her, and began to explain.

"When we arrived at the castle, it was not as a pair," he told her quietly, his voice low and hollow as his mind reeled back to day's past. "She was there before I was - a day or so ahead, so we planned it. It wouldn't do for her to be associated with the bedraggled Friar who appeared on the doorstep demanding audience with His Majesty. I was let in, given food and bath and a warm bed, for it was late in the night that I arrived."

_'And I bet there was a pretty bedwarmer waiting for you as well,'_ she thought wryly. While she had only recently become properly aware of it, she had always known his willingness for a sweet handmaid. Sango did not voice this, however, but instead waited for Miroku to continue.

"In the morning, I awoke to fresh robes and breakfast with His Royal Wickedness. It was a tedious affair, but that's not the point. It is what happened next that is important. I left to the audience chamber, following his lead, and there we spoke of only one thing - Greenhaven. He knows we are here. And he knows that there are a great many of us. He also knows that Inuyasha - The King of the Outlaws - makes his settlement here, and that all those who stay here are his followers. I do not know how he has gained this knowledge - but I do know that there is a barmaid who has been known to keep suspicious company. And for that, we must assume that she, or someone else in the village, has been assisting the sheriff.

"Our lives - the lives of all who live here - are in danger, Sango," he said. His voice cracked with anger and despair. "There's no way around it. In three days he marches on us - three days, at the most. That's assuming that no soldier left Nottingham before I did. We need to prepare as best we can for the battle that is to come."

Miroku struggled to sit up, only to be pushed down by Sango. She met his frustrated look squarely with her own brown eyes, and her hand slid up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

"We'll be ready, Friar. His Majesty's soldiers can't be two places at once, after all."

He looked at her in confusion, and she explained.

"The tournament which Inuyasha is so crazy to enter also takes place in three days time - it is a tourney, more than a tournament; and if the papers Kagome brought yesterday are to be believed, more than half of his military force has joined. We still have time - it will only need the right planning."

She stood, then, and grabbed his easel from beside the fire, placing a piece of parchment on it and drawing a haphazard map with the ink brush.

"Since the tournaments in Nottinghamshire, nobody'll know most of us - which helps. Now, if the town itself plans to host this, then the inns will be hurting somethin' awful for help. Arashi can be spared, as well as Umeko and I guess Nazuna could go as well. There's bound to be a few others, I bet, who can make certain that the soldiers drink heavily through most of these next few days. It shouldn't be hard - I bet Shinnosuke could even…"

Sango trailed off, her face lighting at the tenderness with which Miroku looked at her. It told her, without words, everything she'd been avoiding since before he left. She blushed, and he chuckled.

"I see everything is in good hands," he said quietly. She nodded quietly, and went back to her work. After a long while, she stood and stretched sore legs. A glance at Miroku told her that he was asleep, but as she began to walk towards the door, she felt a warm hand envelop hers.

"Stay," he whispered, and pulled her down next to him. She curled up quietly against his blanketed chest as he wrapped his arms around her, and closed her eyes. It occurred to her just before she fell asleep that this perhaps wasn't the best choice, but…she had been so close to losing him - if not to Naraku, then to the infection of a vicious wound. And she wasn't about to let him go without a fight. When Inuyasha entered the hut later that night, hoping to get some sleep, he found them still like that and - with a snort of aggravated derision - turned around and made for the nearest tree.

---

In the morning, Miroku awoke alone, which surprised him a little. He had expected to wake up with a certain huntress in his arms; had been looking forward to it, even. In fact, it was safe to say he was the littlest bit disappointed, even if he did understand why she'd gone. So he sat up, pushing himself off the bed -

- and staggered into the table, white-hot pain shooting through his right arm. Malicious throbs of warm discomfort reminded him of his wound, and he stood up again, careful to use only his left hand for support. The ruckus caused Kagome to enter, her eyebrows raised in concern.

"I'm alright," he said hoarsely. She shook her head, and began to strike the fire.

"I'll make a pot of tea," she told him. Miroku sat down quietly, and grabbed an apple. Inuyasha entered shortly thereafter.

"She'd better be different from th' others," he told Miroku gruffly as he, too, grabbed a piece of fruit and began to eat. Kagome studiously not-listened as she gathered the herbs for the tea.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sango. She's a notch 'bove your usual sort. You should treat 'er proper-like."

"My intent isn't to bed her, Inuyasha. I know her too well to make any attempt of that sort…" he trailed off as the woman in question entered the hut as well.

"Good morning, Friar," Sango said quietly, tapping Kagome on the shoulder. The young woman turned, and a flurry of quiet words followed. The two women left the hut shortly thereafter - as soon as the tea was on the table.

Sango led Kagome away from Green Haven's residents, to near a broad stand of trees.

"So?" Kagome said, the question evident in her voice. Sango filled her in quickly.

"…and so I need you to gather up as many of our women as you can. Those whose Norman isn't too shoddy would be nice, but any and all are needed. And we'll need them to get their best shifts out."

"Not many of them have tidy clothing," Kagome warned. Sango nodded, thinking for a moment.

"We'll do what we can. You can sew, I assume. I've always been a hopeless stitch, but there's bound to be a few women who can do some solid work with needle and thread. Alter what you need to, buy what you can't save. We've got a little extra."

"And what're they to do when they make it into town?"

Sango smiled.

"This is the easy part. Hire on as barmaids in as many taverns as they can. All they've got to do is get the soldiers good and drunk. It shouldn't be hard. The drunker they get, the more difficult it'll be to focus when they awake the next morn."

Kagome laughed. "An army who's half-drunk, tired, and overworked is half beat already."

"That's right. Now…I need to talk to our younglings, as well. Anyone o'er the age of seven will do…"

The children assembled solemnly, all eight of them. Sango sat down on a stump to speak with them, doubts still swirling in her head. What she was asking them to do was dangerous, suicidal even. But every little bit would help, and Kagome had talked their mothers around already.

"You're all old enough, I assume, to know who Prince Naraku is?"

The eldest of them, around eleven years of age, spat. The rest of them simply scowled. She smiled.

"Good. We're going to play a trick on his soldiers. You'll each get a little knife, and a few handfuls of dirt. Now…"

She went on to outline the plan, a devious little plot she was quite proud of. They would sneak into the camps after nightfall, making their way into the supply tents. Bowstrings would be thinned, arrows broken and thrown into the bush, food spoilt by dirt and urine. They'd untie the horses, and throw rocks from a safe distance to scare the beasts off. Odd noises in the night would keep the soldiers (and their sentries) hopping until they twitched at every gust of wind.

"You must understand, though," she told them seriously, "that this is not a game. This is serious work, as serious as anything that I'd give a grown man is. You must be careful and clever - you don't come back from being caught."

Sango watched their faces, and approved of what she saw. Beneath the dirt and muck of camp life, these children understood the gravity of what they must do. She stood, and halted. Miroku was out of bed - out of the hut - standing in front of the assembled residents of Green Haven. Inuyasha stood next to him. She walked over, and heard the half-demon's gruff voice.

"By now, all of you've prolly heard what's happened. What will happen," he was saying. "Naraku's goin' to come at us with all he's got, and we 'ave to meet 'im with the same. Some of you got yer stuff from Sango already."

Miroku stepped forward.

"We need to prepare Green Haven. This isn't a skirmish with a handful of soldiers; this is a true attack on our home. How many of you have used any sort of weapon before? Even just a slingshot."

Several hands went up, almost half the crowd - Sango's included.

"Good…how many of you have used a bow before? A dagger?"

The response was the same - all told, there were only a few who would be unable to fight, and even they could help to heal or to watch over the smallest of the children. Miroku smiled, and Inuyasha spoke once more.

"Y'all know what to do, I suppose. Those that don't, talk t' the scrawny girl near th' big oak. She'll set you straight. I've got my own shite to settle, and this joke o' a Friar 'ere is wounded. I suggest you talk with yer loved one's quick-like, and get to work."

Inuyasha stepped out of the crowd, pausing only long enough to hear Miroku wish them all 'good luck and Godspeed'. Then he stepped into their hut, where Kikyou sat ready to stop him from attending the tournament. Sango sighed, and straightened (she'd get him for the 'scrawny' comment later) as several people approached her. She glanced at the Friar once, watching his expression falter for a moment, give way to a look of concern and care for his people. She forced herself to focus on the man in front of her, and began explaining to him the basics of grass weaving.

---

So pleased with this chapter. It's probably the second-to-last, as well. Maybe the third, but not likely. This story is almost at it's end. I'm a little sad, really. It's been such a great experience, this one. Kitty-chan has a different word for it (it's not a nice one, I bet) and her hard work is certainly appreciated. And you might notice the way people have changed their speech...well... It's a long story. Suffice it to say, I might just go back and change everything so that the speech changes for each character.


End file.
